


The Plan

by Lovedmoviesb



Series: The Famous Rick Grimes [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, baseball AU, beginning of relationship, but that i really wanted, the high school baseball au no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 05:49:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20848538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovedmoviesb/pseuds/Lovedmoviesb
Summary: Previously seen only on FF.Michonne is a young woman of the 90s. Her future is all planned out, from college to the summer job that's going to pay for it. Rick Grimes wasn't supposed to be part of that plan, but there's something about the former high school jock that she can't seem to shake. Richonne, summer job, 90s nostalgia, cheating exes, and a good dose of drama.





	1. Prom Night

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pulling all my stories from this universe and combining them into a collection for ease of access on AO3. Please enjoy!

"We weren't going to work out anyway."

It was not an easy thing to hear from her high school sweetheart, regardless of its veracity. It also definitely was not the sort of statement that a person wanted to hear on their prom night. Nevertheless, Michonne stood blinking in her iridescent lavender dress, her eyes on her very recently ex-boyfriend.

"Mike, are you serious?" she squinted at him, unbelieving.

"Do you really want to go into college dragging around your high school boyfriend?" Mike questioned. His boutonniere matched her corsage.

The truth was, she absolutely did not want that. Still, she figured they would at least make it to graduation.

"You want to do this tonight?" she asked him, leaning back on her heeled mules, blowing one of her microbraids back from her face.

"Figured it'd be better to do it before the pictures. Save some money," Mike shrugged. It was a practical suggestion. Mike was nothing if not practical.

"Why buy me this then?" Michonne brandished her wrist, the small forget-me-nots and irises shining in the low light of the gym.

"You were a good girlfriend. I wanted to get you something to remember me by," Mike smiled winningly, as though this gesture made up for all the rest.

Wordlessly, Michonne fiddled with the tie on the corsage, undoing the minuscule knot. She dropped the flowers in her ex's hand without fanfare.

"Enjoy your night," she told him, spinning on her heel and heading back into the dance.

Mike did not follow her. Michonne knew that he wouldn't. It didn't stop her from pushing her way back onto the dance floor, smiling at her friends as she headed towards the stage. It was time for the announcement of prom queen and king and Michonne had no plans on missing it.

"All right," student body president Andrea Holden beamed down from the stage at them all, her blonde hair coiled into an updo of tight spirals, her lipliner perfectly matching her eyeshadow. "It's time!"

A chorus of cheers went up from the audience. Michonne felt Sasha at her elbow. She glanced over at her friend, smiling.

"Where's Mike?" Sasha asked in a whisper, adjusting her rhinestone gown.

"Who cares?" Michonne shrugged. "We broke up."

"What?" Sasha's head snapped around. She ignored a glare from Andrea on the stage. Sasha had none of the fervor for prom that their golden-haired friend possessed.

"We weren't going to work out anyway," Michonne parroted, turning her full attention back to Andrea.

"Still," Sasha murmured, "He could have done it after prom." She flexed her fist experimentally. "Want me to get Ty to go find him?

"He's not worth all that," Michonne promised her. Besides, Sasha's little brother Tyrese was liable to kill Mike. The boys already had a rivalry of sorts from the football and the basketball team. Mike was quick, but Ty had about 50 pounds on him since he hit that growth spurt.

Sasha scoffed. "Well, let me know."

Michonne chuckled quietly as the prom court was announced, slowing making their way onto the stage. She took her place among them, smiling brightly at Andrea and the audience as she stood in line next to Lori Wayne, skinny with mermaid-like brown hair, Maggie Greene green-eyed, short haired and bubbly, and Jessie Anderson, blonde, blue-eyed and full figured. Opposite them, the nominees for king stood elbow to elbow. Michonne recognized a few, Zeke from art class, dark skinned in his black suit with his long dreadlocs pulled high, Phillip from debate, ruddy in complexion, his brown hair expertly parted to the side like a politician, Glenn Rhee from gym, tan and ebon haired and grinning winningly at Maggie. The one she didn't know personally was closest to her. One glance, and Michonne knew who'd be taking the crown.

"Rick Grimes!" Andrea announced his name with a flourish. The crowd exploded into an uproar.

Rick stepped forward, looking modest but gracious. It was strange to see him without his standard baseball cap. Michonne had never realized how curly his hair was, or what a nice smile he had. The pitcher of the King County Kings state-champion baseball team, Rick Grimes was famous through their little corner of Georgia.

Michonne relaxed her shoulders, counting down the seconds where she could escape back to her friends. If Rick was prom king, then surely prom queen was—

"Michonne Bechet!"

She started at her own name, but her reaction did not compare to Lori's. The slender brunette exclaimed in disbelief before pulling herself together, fixing a smile on her face that was fake as a three-dollar bill.

If Rick was shocked that his beau hadn't been voted in, he didn't show it. Instead, he reached for Michonne's hand, holding it dutifully as they both were crowned. From the audience, Sasha gave her a thumbs up. Even Mike applauded her loudly, waving as though he hadn't dumped her minutes before.

"Congratulations," Rick told her lowly as a photographer snapped away.

"Thanks," Michonne was still in shock. She chanced a glance at him. He cleaned up pretty nice. She'd only ever seen him in Kurt Cobain flannels or his baseball uniform. "You too. Sorry your girlfriend didn't win." She wasn't sure what compelled to her to say this. Perhaps it was her newfound singledom.

"I'm not," Rick turned his eyes on her, his cheeks dimpling. "And she's not my girlfriend."

Michonne's eyebrows jumped. Rick noticed and laughed.

"What happened?" she asked him, unable to help herself. Rick and Lori were the Barbie and Ken of King County High.

"Caught her behind the gym with Shane Walsh," Rick delivered this with the air of a person discussing the weather. Shane was his teammate, the catcher. Michonne was suddenly glad that the season was over and the school year was closing. The drama was getting uncontrollable in her senior year.

"Damn," Michonne took another look at her competition. Lori looked as though she had swallowed something sour.

Rick adjusted his crown, looking as though he wanted to just take it off. "He did me a favor, really."

Michonne sympathized. "My boyfriend dumped me ten minutes ago. Said that we weren't going to work out anyway."

"Damn," Rick whistled lowly.

"You want to dance?" she asked him, suddenly determined to have fun tonight.

"I do," Rick agreed, tugging her towards the dance floor. "I think we have to anyway."

Sure enough, Bryan Adam's started pumping through the school's sound system. The crowd formed a circle around the dance floor, caging in the prom court. Glenn and Maggie found one another like iron and magnet, Zeke kindly accepted Jessie's proposal to dance, and Phillip stepped into to seize a still-scowling Lori.

"Well," Rick reached for Michonne, looking for all the world like a Disney prince. "Shall we, queen?"

"Sure thing, king," Michonne played along. Rick's hands spanned nearly the length of her waist as he swung her into position. She clutched at his shoulders. "Why is it always this song?" she lamented quietly.

Rick grinned. To Michonne's surprise, he began to sing in a pretty fair imitation of Bryan Adam's gravely voice. "Don't tell me it's not worth fighting for..."

Michonne succumbed to giggles immediately. "Oh my gosh, Rick," she snorted as he continued his impromptu karaoke. "Why do you know the words?"

Rick paused, his eyes flickering to Lori then back to her. "My ex had questionable taste in music."

Michonne shook her head. "Not a power ballad fan?"

Rick shrugged, adjusting his hands around her hips. "There's one I like. Not this one."

"Oh?" Michonne tilted her brows. "I figured you were mostly a Nirvana fan."

Rick laughed outright. "Mostly a farmer's kid with a lot of flannel."

"Lucky you, that it got popular then," Michonne smiled.

"Yeah," Rick pulled her in closer, "Lucky me." The song wound down as the audience clapped. Ace of Base pulsed into the gym and the crowd surged around them, joining in on the dancing. Rick's grip on her loosened, but he didn't let go. Michonne was in no hurry to release him either. This was the most fun she'd had tonight.

"Did you take your prom pictures yet?" an idea occurred to her.

"No," Rick shook his head. "My mom already got about a million pictures of me in this suit."

"Do you mind taking one more?" Michonne asked. "My mom is going to want one."

"Can't disappoint your mom," Rick nodded solemnly. His lips twitched in the hint of a smile. "C'mon," he took her hand again, leading her off the floor to the photo booth.

Prom pictured turned into punch, which led to another round of dancing. Michonne was pleased to find that Rick, though not as talented of a dancer as Mike, did not lack in enthusiasm.

"What are your plans this summer?" Rick asked her, shouting over the music.

"I need a job," Michonne's stomach tightened at just the thought. UCLA loomed ahead, the promise of a shiny new future. That shiny future came with a hefty cost, even with her scholarship.

"What kind of job?" Rick asked, looking thoughtful.

"The kind that pays," Michonne laughed.

"You like movies?" Rick continued his line of questioning, sliding seamlessly into the _Macarena_.

Michonne joined him, swiveling her hips. "I do." She wondered for a moment if he was asking her out. Her heart began to thump quicker.

"There's an opening at the theater. It's pretty easy work. Free popcorn. Free movies," Rick turned to look at her. "Want me to put in a good word?"

Michonne swallowed, smiling at him. "That would be great."

-l-l-l-l-

"How are you getting home?"

Prom was over and students were streaming out of the gym, headed to after parties, hotels, and dark corners, each determined to hook up.

"I was going to ask Sasha," Michonne answered. In truth, she hadn't thought much about it. Mike had been her ride.

"I've got my truck," Rick gestured to the parking lot. "Let me give you a lift."

"You aren't going to that thing in the woods?" all the athletes were. Michonne figured Sasha and Andrea were going to drag her there one way or the other.

Rick scoffed. "I see those guys enough. I was just going to grab something to eat."

A silence stretched between them. From behind, Michonne heard the clack of heels.

"Michonne!" Andrea was by her side in a moment, flushed and clearly excited. "Are you ready?"

Michonne reluctantly turned her head to look at her friend. "Ready for what?"

"The party! Ty is driving! Everyone is going to be there," Andrea bounced on the balls of her feet.

"Not everyone," Michonne's eyes found Rick again. He smiled just the slightest.

"Let's go," Andrea reiterated. "Shane is waiting for us."

Rick swallowed thickly at the sound of his teammate's name. Michonne turned to her friend.

"You go ahead," she smiled. "I'm going to call it a night."

"And miss the chance to rub your crown in Lori and Jessie's face?" Andrea looked affronted. "Sorry Rick," she added as an afterthought.

"No worries," he chuckled.

"Plus," Andrea doubled down, "I heard what Mike did. You should come celebrate dropping that dead weight."

Michonne shook her head at her friend's lack of tact. Still, the sentiment was appreciated.

"You go ahead," Michonne repeated. "Call me to tell me about it tomorrow."

Andrea blinked at her. "Ok...What are you going to do?" She asked skeptically.

Michonne chanced a look at Rick. There was something almost hopeful in his eyes. "I'm going to grab something to eat."

"Fine, whatever." Andrea was already moving off, a huge smile on her face. Across the parking lot, Shane Walsh had made an appearance. "I'll call you in the morning!"

Michonne waved her off. Rick watched her go, unable to hide his grin.

"Ready?" Michonne reached for her hair, straightening her tiara.

"Ready," Rick tilted his own crown jauntily.

Together, the Queen and King left the prom behind them.


	2. Just Friends (?)

"Just like that?"

Rick stared at her, incredulous.

"Just like that," Michonne snapped her fingers for emphasis.

Rick scoffed, shaking his head in disgust. "He's crazy."

"Nah," Michonne reached for a sip of the bottle between them, relishing the tang of the prosecco. They were seated in the flatbed of Rick's truck, the remnants of a feast of Taco Bell and Rick's prom crown beside them. She had long since lost track of the time, and found she didn't much mind.

"He is," Rick insisted, coaxing the container from her hand and taking a pull, "If he can let you go, then he's crazy." His knuckles brushed hers as he took the bottle from her.

Michonne felt warmth flood her that she was sure had nothing to do with the alcohol. "What about you?"

Rick sat the bottle down. "What about me?" he tilted his head at her. Michonne became distracted as his curls flopped endearingly in his face. This was the most she had ever looked at Rick up close. She found that she did not mind the view. His cheeks dimpled when he smiled, matching the small cleft in his chin. There was a boyish quality to his whole face, but she could see the man starting to form beneath it. Even now, his face was dusted with light peach fuzz. She wondered how long it would take him to grow a beard.

"Lori," Michonne licked her lips, tasting the remnants of the bubbly drink. "She's crazier than Mike."

"How do you figure?" Rick laughed.

Michonne paused, taking another gulp as she chose her words. "She was…possessive."

Rick burst out into laughter, clutching his side.

"I'm serious!" Michonne's voice was much too loud, but neither of them noticed. "We've been in school together since 8th grade, and we've talked how many times?" she gestured, ticking off her fingers.

"You're saying you couldn't talk to me because of Lori?" Rick snorted.

"I'm saying if any girl came within a foot of you, she bit their head off." Michonne giggled.

"Not true," Rick protested.

"Oh yeah?" Michonne poked him in the chest. "How many female friends do you have then?"

Rick paused, looking flabbergasted, as if the thought had just occurred to him. "Ok, you have a point."

"I know I do," Michonne grinned proudly. "She made sure no other girls got around you. And then look what she does!" the words were tumbling out fast and hard. "That's why she's crazier than Mike."

"Because she cheated on me?" Rick asked, leaning back. "Or because she wanted me all to herself?"

"Both," Michonne did not pause in her response. "She acted like she didn't trust you, but really you couldn't trust her." Maybe she'd been watching too much Oprah lately. The Queen of daytime television's sage advice sprung forward. "And with Shane Walsh!" she scoffed. "You're much cuter than Shane," Michonne informed him.

"Cute," Rick snorted, looking amused. "Great." There was a clear lack of enthusiasm in his voice.

"What?" Michonne asked. "Cute is good."

"Whatever. No dude wants to be cute. Cute is for puppies and purses." Rick picked up her bedazzled bag as an example.

"Fine," Michonne conceded the point. "Then if you don't want to be cute, what do you want to be?"

He shrugged, working his arms out of his tuxedo jacket. "I don't know. Think of some other adjectives."

Never one to back away from a challenge, Michonne sat up straighter. "Ok," she began, taking a long hard look at the young man in front of her. "You're… a good athlete," she ventured. It was an understatement, really. Gaggles of girls had taken to gathering beneath the bleachers when the baseball team practiced just to see Rick warm up in his gym clothes. Game nights were always packed. His fastball was legend around these parts. Rumor had it that colleges had started trying to sign him as early as their junior year.

"Thanks," Rick freed himself from the jacket, offering it to her. Michonne pulled it on, grateful for a reprise. She wasn't cold at all, but she didn't want the boy next to her to see the goosebumps that kept running up her arms when he looked at her.

"So, you're athletic," she got back on track, wishing they had more prosecco to sip on. Rick had only managed to grab a bottle that he was sure wouldn't be missed from his basement. Michonne wondered who he planned to share it with tonight.

"You covered that," he reminded her cheekily, leaning against the back of his truck. He stretched his legs out on the flatbed in front of them.

"Patience," she chided, full of false confidence. "I'm trying to think."

"It can't be good, if you're taking that long to think of something nice to say," he chuckled lowly.

"It's hard!" Michonne wasn't lying. Between the alcohol, the lateness of the hour, and the boy next to her, her mind had gone fuzzy.

"No it ain't," his accent came out swinging in full-force.

"You try it then," she challenged.

"Sure," Rick cracked his knuckles, a motion she recognized from watching him pitch. "You're beautiful," he told her.

Michonne felt her blood rush to her face. "It's the dress," she lifted the fabric as an example. Purple was her favorite color. She had picked it out despite Mike's request to wear something red, his favorite.

Rick eyed her outfit appreciatively. "Might be helping, but it ain't the dress. You're beautiful all the time. You've got half these guys round here trying to hook up with you."

"Explains how I ended up winning this crown," Michonne deflected. She generally ignored the boys at school. For one thing, she'd had Mike, steady, dependable, and handsome. For another, she wasn't long for King County. Leaving home was easier without attachments. "I figured it'd be Lori." Lori was the kind of girl Michonne suspected would live and die as the queen of a one-horse town.

Rick shook his head, reaching for the aforementioned tiara nestled in her hair. "Lori's pretty, but she's got nothing on you." He pinned her with his glance. "Lori wasn't mean about any girls being around me. She was mean about _you_."

"Me?" Michonne's brows jumped. "We barely even talked."

"Doesn't mean I didn't look at you," a blush was crawling up Rick's neck, barely visible in the light from the streetlamps.

"Why were you looking at me?" she asked, nervous.

"Same reason all the boys do." Rick smirked. "You're a hottie."

Michonne smiled, suddenly unable to look directly at him. "You're good at this." She'd heard smooth talking before, but it had never had this effect. She was glad that the alcohol was gone now.

Rick laughed. "That's because you're way more than just 'cute'."

"These guys trying to get with me…" Michonne felt the words leaving her before she could think too much on them. "Are you one of them?"

"If you have to ask, I'm worse at flirting than I thought," this statement was accompanied with another head tilt. Her heart began to flutter like a wounded moth.

"I just broke up with Mike—" the excuses welled up instantly.

"I just broke up with Lori," Rick countered. "So what?"

"I'm leaving in August," she tried again.

"That's three months away," Rick scooted closer to her. "You running out of excuses?"

"Rick I—" she couldn't find the right words. Common sense was warring with the heat of the moment and losing.

He cut her off. "Are you drunk?"

She blinked in confusion. "What? No," She was tipsy maybe. Flushed, certainly; but never in her life had Michonne been drunk.

"Good." Rick moved closer to her. "'Cause I'm going to kiss you, Michonne, unless you tell me no."

"Why?" she asked, her mouth dry.

"Because no prom queen as pretty and funny as you deserves to end her night without a kiss," Rick told her.

Michonne considered this. If this night had gone to plan, she'd probably be at that party in the woods with Mike. They'd have kissed certainly. Maybe Mike would have wanted more. It was prom night, after all. She knew things were expected of couples on prom night.

Flushing at the thought, she took in the boy sitting only inches from her. Was he thinking about Lori, about what they would have been doing? Or did the luck of a vote or two make fate place them together here, recently single, and staring at one another?

"Ok," Michonne whispered her answer. Rick heard her.

His lips were warm, the faint traces of the sparkling beverage lingering on them. He started so gentle that Michonne was sure he only meant to touch his mouth to hers out of some misguided attempt to be polite tonight. His hand groped for hers between their bodies, his fingers lacing with her own. Michonne pulled back just the slightest to look at him.

"That was…" she searched for a word to break the tension. "Nice."

Rick let out a disbelieving bark of laughter. "That's me, the cute, nice guy." He held onto her hand, shaking his head.

"What's wrong with that?" she asked, warming to him quickly.

"That's not how I want to kiss you," Rick told her, his cheeks glowing.

"Then how?" Michonne questioned.

He answered by fusing his mouth to hers again. There was nothing tentative in his touch now. Firm lips slanted over hers and before she knew it, their once chaste kiss had melded into an open mouthed makeout session in public. Whatever tricks he'd picked up, he employed them all. Michonne melted in Rick's arms like chocolate left out in the sun. His tongue dueled with hers, curling inside of her mouth until she shivered at the sensation. She fell forward into him, but he only wrapped her tighter against his chest, freeing her mouth so that he could dust kisses down her cheek and neck.

Mike had never done that. He'd never even asked. Michonne wasn't sure she would have let him anyway. PDA was something for fast girls. If she had ever been caught making out with a guy, her reputation would have been shot. Her breath was coming in gasps now, her hands curling into the front of his dress shirt.

"Rick," his name left her on a sigh. She wasn't sure what she needed to say. Her head was swimming.

He stopped, allowing some space between them. The air swirled, cooling her overheated body. Michonne sighed in relief.

"You ok?" he asked her, letting her lull back against his truck.

Michonne swallowed. Truthfully, she wasn't sure. Her body seemed to be thrumming now, crying out for more.

"I didn't think you—" she took another breath. "I've never been kissed like that."

Rick shook his head again, smiling to himself. "Like I said, Mike's crazy."

"Where did you learn that?" Michonne asked dizzily.

Rick paused. "Practice," he settled on the safe word.

Michonne couldn't believe that Lori had let that kind of kissing slip away from her. No wonder she was possessive. "I don't think I would mind practicing more," she ventured. Rick reached for her, a shit-eating grin on his face. Michonne moved back. "Maybe not tonight," she amended.

He nodded solemnly. "My bad," he apologized.

"It's ok," she assured him. "It was a good kiss."

"A cute kiss?" he asked, cocking a brow.

Michonne laughed. "Something like that."

"I'd like to do it again," Rick told her, pushing a stray strand of her hair back.

"Maybe we will," she leaned her head on his shoulder, exhaustion catching up with her.

"Give me a little bit," Rick whispered, pulling her under his arm. "I'll be good to drive soon. Then I'll take you home."

"No rush," Michonne could feel herself drifting off, warm beneath his jacket.

"I had fun tonight, Michonne," Rick kissed her on the forehead.

"Me too," she mumbled, leaning into him.

"Maybe we can do it again soon," he said.

Her eyes still closed, Michonne smiled. "Maybe."

-l-l-l-l-

The second time came three weeks later, behind the gym after graduation rehearsal.

She didn't mean to. After prom, she'd decided that she and Rick were going to be just friends. He was nice, sure, and hot, but he was fresh out of a relationship and so was she. According to Cosmo, at most, they were destined to be each other's rebounds. Michonne didn't need a rebound. She was fine on her own.

They'd spent the last three weeks in each other's orbit, chatting between classes, sitting next to one another at lunch. Andrea didn't seem to notice the change in their relationship, most likely because Rick was often flanked by the rest of the baseball team. Even Sasha bit her tongue when Zeke was around. Graduation was around the corner and things were changing at King County High. Anything could happen.

Anything did happen when a fight broke out between the student body president and the cheerleading captain during graduation rehearsal. It'd been brewing for years, really, a friendly rivalry that had taken a sharp edge with the addition of hormones. Lori, newly single and not shy about flaunting it, flirted with Shane Walsh in front of Andrea. To put it lightly, all hell had broken lose.

Michonne stood in a long line of her classmates, fiddling with her cap and gown. The hat felt tight on her still-tender head.

"Keep messing with your hair and you're going to ruin those braids," Sasha cautioned, smirking at her.

"Your cousin puts them in tight," Michonne lamented.

"You're the one who wanted to go from Brandy to Janet in _Poetic Justice_," Sasha teased. "There was nothing wrong with those first braids. Who are you trying to impress?"

Michonne's eyes flickered across the gym to the line of boys. Rick was leaning against the wall, flanked on either side by Zeke and Glenn. He felt her gaze and gave her a wink. Michonne's face flushed.

"Are you looking at Mike?" Sasha questioned.

"Mike?" Michonne realized too late that her ex was just two boys away from Rick, chatting with his best friend Terry.

"Believe me, he knows what he's missing," Sasha filled her in. "Ty says the guys haven't stopped giving him shit for dropping you. They think he's crazy."

Michonne digested this. "I didn't change my hair for Mike. I changed it because I wanted to."

"All right, Chonne. I'm still waiting for you to go _Waiting to Exhale_ on Mike's dumb ass." Sasha made a face in Mike's direction.

Michonne laughed. "He's not worth looking stupid for."

"True," Sasha agreed. "Did you hear from UCLA yet?"

Michonne bristled at the change in topic. She'd almost forgotten about school in the whirlwind of the last few weeks. "There might be more financial aid, but I won't know for a few months."

Sasha nodded thoughtfully. "Same with the Academy. I should hear soon."

"You're really going to do it?" Michonne asked. "You're valedictorian. You could go anywhere."

"I could," Sasha smirked. "And I want to go to Air Force Academy."

"You're going to kick ass," Michonne told her. She could picture it already.

"I know," Sasha shrugged.

"I think I need a job this summer," Michonne told her. "Just in case."

"Not a bad plan." Sasha nodded thoughtfully. "Any idea where?"

"I was thinking the movie theater," Michonne's gaze wandered back to Rick. He looked good in his black gown.

"Zeke works there," Sasha commented. "And Shane. You sure you can spend a whole summer around Walsh?"

"I couldn't care less about Shane," Michonne answered, laughing.

"I heard he had his hand up Lori's skirt," Sasha lowered her voice, turning her head to look for Andrea. Their friend was standing in the front of the line, ready to lead the charge. "Drea's acting like she hasn't heard the rumor."

Michonne swallowed. "She's got it bad for him." Neither Sasha nor Michonne understood the attraction.

"Better Shane than Phillip," Sasha commented.

"That's not saying much," Michonne laughed.

"I heard Rick works at the theater too. I can't believe he hasn't beat Shane's ass." Sasha turned her attention to the cluster of baseball players in the opposite corner.

"He's better off without her," Michonne said. She'd enjoyed having Rick around these past few days, even if they were just friends. Sasha didn't even mind the new addition to their group.

"Speak of the damn devil," Sasha's tone changed. Lori Wayne was striding around the gym in her Steve Madden Mules, hair swishing in a long curtain down her back. She made a beeline for the jocks in the back. "This should be good," Sasha scrambled for a better view.

The girls watched as Lori infiltrated the group of boys, flicking her hair in Rick's face. Rick took a step back, looking as though he would rather be anywhere else right now.

"Hi Shane," Lori's tone was girlish, deliberately flirtatious.

"Oh shit," Sasha breathed.

She and Michonne whipped their heads around. Andrea was already on the move, her face turning pink as she tapped Lori hard on the shoulder.

"Uh-oh," Michonne muttered.

The fight happened in the blink of an eye. In seconds, the gym dissolved into pure chaos. Andrea pushed Lori straight into the wall. Lori responded with a resounding slap. Michonne and Sasha got knocked apart in the resulting stampede. Their classmates were jockeying for better position, shouting, laughing, cheering, and chanting.

"Girl fight!" the cry went up and clearly caught on, echoing around. Michonne happily retreated to the back. No way was she willing to get dragged in a fight a day before graduation.

Two full rows of chairs got knocked over before the administration was able to pull the girls apart. The baseball team wasn't much help as they whooped and hollered, congratulating Shane on having two of the school's hottest girls fighting over him. Ty ended up having to pull Andrea off of Lori while Sasha shouted for them to get it together. In all of the commotion, Michonne felt someone tug at her hand.

"C'mon." It was Rick, smirking as their graduating class surged forward.

Michonne scanned the crowd around them. Every eye was on the two women still hollering profanities at one another. She paused for just a moment.

"All right," she took his hand, hurrying with him out of sight.

Rick ran them down the hall and out of the doors. Summer had come early to King County this year. It wasn't yet 10 am, but the sun was beating down, the humidity already sweltering. Michonne giggled breathlessly as Rick tugged her into a nook between the buildings in the shade.

Michonne allowed her back to hit the wall. Rick wasted no time in cornering her.

"You changed your hair," Rick reached for one of her long twists.

"I did," Michonne smiled at him, brushing her hair forward for his inspection.

"I like it," he dropped her hair in lieu of cupping her chin. Michonne met him halfway. Their gowns rustled against each other in their scramble to get closer to one another.

The kiss came easier this time, sliding seamlessly into a rhythm. Michonne reached for his hair beneath his cap, tugging at the curls as she nipped at his lips.

"I thought you wanted to just be friends?" Rick asked her in between kisses.

"Who says we're not friends?" Michonne fired back, taking a page out of his book and kissing him on the neck. Rick let out a deep groan, his hands burning into her waist through her graduation gown.

"Fine," he ground out, returning the favor. Michonne's mouth fell open and she clung tighter to him. "Friends." He pulled back, pinning her with his gaze. "For now."

He silenced any protest she might have made with another kiss.

They returned to the gym ten minutes later, slightly disheveled but no worse for the wear. The principal was midway through a lecture on proper graduation etiquette. Michonne slid into her seat near Sasha. Her friend shot her a weird look.

"Where'd you go?" she mouthed.

Across the gym, Rick took his proper place, shooting her a smile before sitting down himself.

"Nowhere," Michonne lied, turning her attention back to the front.


	3. Keep It In The Closet

"This is the projection room," Rick swung the door open, allowing Michonne to walk in ahead of him. Film reels were stacked against a long desk at one wall, the projector sitting silently, facing outward. "These rooms are all connected," Rick gestured to a door on the other side. "But Zeke's the only one our age who's really qualified enough to work with these. You probably won't be up here much."

"They're pretty cool," Michonne leaned forward to examine the film canisters. Each one was labeled, the summer's big releases all written nicely in minuscule block letters.

"Yeah," Rick agreed, dipping his hands into the pockets of his khaki Dickies. "This is probably the coolest thing here. The rest is serving junk food, then sweeping it up later." He smiled at her.

Michonne allowed her hair to cover her face. She needed a reprieve, if only briefly, from the sight of Rick. No boy should have the right to look so good in a red vinyl vest and black t-shirt. Despite this indisputable fact, her mouth watered every time they got near one another. Since rehearsal that afternoon, Rick had wormed his way beneath her skin. Anytime he was near; her body seemed to pulsate.

"What else is on the tour?" she asked, desperate to keep her mind on the task at hand and not her desire to tackle him against the wall.

"Not much," Rick shrugged, turning to open the door for her again. The air conditioning from the hall rushed in, cooling Michonne immediately. She breathed a sigh of relief, straightening up to hurry from the room.

"So there's no hidden secrets? No closets to Narnia or anything I should know about?" she teased.

Rick grinned, dogging her steps as they made their way back down the narrow metal stairwell to the main floor. "Just a normal closet with normal brooms and popcorn and all that. I'll show you where it is when we make it back to the kitchen."

Michonne nodded, quickening her pace to put space between her and Rick. "So, how do shifts here normally go?"

"Rookies get the night shifts," he shot her a sympathetic look. "Not a lot goes on. Serve some popcorn, pour some pop, then it's waiting around until the shows let out and you go in to clean up."

"What do you do in between?" she asked. Maybe she could bring a book.

Rick shrugged. "Eat, shoot the shit with whoever's on shift with you."

"Who works night shift?" Michonne was curious about who'd she be spending these long hours with. She prayed it wasn't Shane. She'd had enough of him over the last week or so. Seemingly, he'd chosen Andrea after the slap heard round the world. Drea had taken to floating him around like a prize. Sasha was at her rope's end, but it gave Michonne plenty of excuses to make herself scarce.

"I volunteered to do it with you for your first week," Rick announced casually.

"You didn't have to," Michonne stopped in her tracks. Her heart seemed to be hammering out its best version of an R&B single.

"That's what _friends_ are for," he grinned, stressing the word for her benefit.

Friends. Michonne had plenty of them. She wasn't so sure that she and Rick fit in the box anymore. She didn't sneak off into dark corners to whisper with Sasha or Drea or Ty. She certainly didn't spend inordinate amounts of time thinking about how handsome they were. Most definitely, she didn't makeout with them anytime they had a spare second alone.

But she did all of these things with Rick.

"Rick," she began, feeling the need to say something. "When we're at work, we're going to actually _work_."

"Of course," he responded flippantly.

They managed to work all of an hour and a half before succumbing. Michonne knew that it would be beyond embarrassing to be caught on her first day of the job in the closet with another employee, especially if said employee's tongue was down her throat.

It didn't stop either of them.

He shushed her as she let out a groan, covering her lips with his own to swallow any further noises. Michonne might have felt bad, but it was totally Rick's fault. No one told him to grab her ass with both hands like that.

Of course, no one told him _not_ to either.

She probably should have made it clear to Rick that it was inappropriate for him to run his hands under her shirt, or tell him to cease sucking lower and lower on her neck that way. Michonne was too busy conducting an exploration of her own. Baseball had done Rick's body very good. It was only fair that she touch every part of it that she could. Her fingers wandered down his biceps and narrow waist before settling.

He yanked her forward, trapping her hands between their bodies, pressing himself against her. Heat flared, gathering in Michonne like water from a broken damn. The shaky gasp that escaped her took them both by surprise. She hadn't considered the repercussions of feeling Rick, hot and heavy and undeniably aroused against her. Every human anatomy and sexuality lesson came rushing back to her, even as she stumbled backwards into a stack of popcorn seed containers.

"Shit," Rick managed to catch her before she crashed through the cardboard. "You ok, 'Chonne?"

"Yeah," her voice was more timid than she would have preferred. She chanced a glance downward and nearly came undone. She knew men had reactions, but to her knowledge, she'd never caused one before. At least, not like _that_.

Rick looked at her skeptically, but took a step back, moving his palms to a more conservative place around her waist. "Do you want to go back out there?" he asked, clearly confused.

All Michonne could do was nod. Her body felt as though it wasn't her own anymore, a desire both foreign and familiar driving her. She took a few steady breaths.

"Want me to go out first?" Rick continued his line of questioning, trying to soothe her. "You can take a second if you need it…" he tilted his head, taking her in.

"Can you go out there with…that?" it was embarrassing to even ask about it, despite the fact that she had caused it. She was full of curiosity now, and some other emotion she didn't fully comprehend.

Rick blushed, the blood rushing back to his face. "Give me a minute, and I'll be ok." He hazarded a shy smile at her.

Michonne worried her lip between her teeth. "Sorry," she ventured.

"Don't be," he assured her, taking a moment to adjust his pants. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"That's the first time that happened," Michonne admitted. She'd kissed Mike plenty of times, but never had this transpired between them.

"Really?" Rick asked, surprised. He seemed to absorb that for a moment. Michonne suddenly wanted to escape.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom," she told him. "See you in the kitchen?"

"See you there," Rick nodded, watching her go.

Michonne walked as quickly as dignity allowed, rushing for the girl's room. She took a moment after freshening up to stare at herself in the mirror. She looked…flushed. She wondered if anyone besides her would notice her kiss-swollen lips, or the wrinkles in her clothing from Rick's affections.

"Michonne," the knock at the door startled her, as did Rick's voice. "You ok?"

She stepped outside. He was waiting for her, looking worried. She felt bad.

"I'm fine," she said, projecting a confidence she did not feel.

Rick was unconvinced. "I didn't mean to scare you, I swear." He reached for her hand. Michonne allowed him to take it. "We don't have to move that fast, it's just…" he let out a heavy sigh. "Look, can I take you out?"

"We're supposed to be working," Michonne grinned, attempting to joke.

"You know what I mean," Rick fired right back, deadly serious. "I want to take you on a real date."

"I thought you liked just making out?" she was flushed again, her stomach reeling. She vaguely wondered if this would always be her body's reaction to Rick.

"I do," Rick took a step towards her, "But I want more than that."

Michonne opened her mouth, unsure what to say, her mind and her emotions completely at war. She was saved by the sound of a crash in the lobby. Rick's head whipped around towards it.

"Shit," he breathed, releasing her. "We better go to work. We can talk about this after."

Dazed, she nodded, happily retreating to the safe place of a public space. A kid had knocked his entire popcorn and candy to the floor. Rick set about making him another one (at the mother's insistence). Michonne set off to grab the tools to clean it up. Work was safe, objective, and part of her plan for the summer. She eagerly leapt at the chance to get back on track. Enthused, she sped down the hall, barely paying attention to her surroundings. She was cut short by two figures near the storage closet, whispering urgently.

"Michonne," the voice of her ex made her jump. She looked up to see Mike standing beside Terry, both looking surprised.

"Hey Mike," she waved at him, doing her best to be cordial. She hadn't considered that she might run into him outside of school. She searched herself, looking for some reaction. Truthfully, the most she felt was inconvenienced.

"I didn't know you worked here," Mike stuttered, flustered.

"Just started," Michonne nodded. "Are you guys lost?" She looked around the empty hallway, wondering how the hell they'd ended up back here.

"What?" Mike blinked at her, sweating lightly.

"You're in the back hallway," Michonne explained. In fact, they were only steps away from where she and Rick had been together a few minutes ago. "It's employees only back here."

"Oh," Mike let out a shaky laugh. "We were looking for the bathroom."

"That way," Michonne pointed, eager to get away from the awkwardness of the situation. She didn't like the way Terry was staring at her. He'd never much liked her and Michonne had never understood why. She watched them make their way off before rushing for a broom and mop, shutting the door snugly behind her.

The next hour of busy work was a blessed reprieve from her feelings. Guests streamed in to the modest theater, and popcorn had to be popped, drinks poured, and tickets torn. The broom and mop sat in the corner, neglected.

"I'll put these away," Rick told her, one tool in each hand. He was coming towards her, a look of determination on his face.

"I got it," Michonne took them, cutting him off. She still couldn't bring herself to look at Rick. He might want to continue their conversation. She didn't think she had the strength to brave that task at the moment.

She made her way back to the storage closet, trying not to think of their last tryst inside of it. Throwing the door open, she fumbled for the light. A shocked cry went up as the narrow space illuminated under the florescent fixtures.

"Michonne!" Mike dove behind the boxes she'd nearly fallen through an hour back.

Michonne stood wide-eyed, clutching the broom, the pieces of the puzzle slowly sliding into place. In front of her, Terry and Mike were sequestered together, looking every bit as wound up as Rick had been not so long ago.

"Oh," it was the only thing she could fix her mouth to say as she stared in surprise.


	4. Lose Control

"I wish you would have said something, Mike."

A long silence followed this statement, a faint static ringing dimly through the receiver. For a moment, Michonne feared that Mike had simply left the conversation. Finally, he spoke.

"I wanted to Michonne," his voice was quiet, laced with a sadness she hadn't heard before. For the first time since their breakup, Michonne felt her heart ache.

"Did you know the whole time?" she asked, feeling like the world's biggest asshole, but needing to know.

"I think…" Mike cleared his throat. "I think part of me knew. But I didn't know for sure until Terry and me got close."

Michonne digested this. "How long have you been with him?" she asked quietly.

"It happened around Christmas break. I didn't know how to tell you. You were a good girlfriend, Chonne. I didn't want to hurt you like that."

"You could have told me," she sounded like a broken record.

"I wanted to," Mike sighed. "I didn't know where to start. You are Terry are the only ones who know."

Michonne pulled her knees into her chest. The radio droned lowly in the background, the sound of Michael Jackson's "Remember the Time". It only enhanced her melancholy. She reached over to switch it off.

"I wanted to like you," Mike began again. "I figured if I could like any girl, it'd be you."

"Thanks," the sentiment didn't quite cheer her up, but it helped. A thought occurred to her. "How'd you know you liked Terry?"

Mike choked on the other line. "Chonne, I don't think-"

"I want to hear it Mike," Michonne sat up straighter. "I promise you, I'm not mad."

"All right," Mike cleared his throat again, beginning tentatively. "We were just hanging out a lot. Talking a ton, normal stuff like that. Then it started to mean something more."

"Who kissed who?" the questions tumbled out fast now.

Mike chuckled awkwardly. "Uh…he did. The first time at least."

"And you just knew? Like, was it a feeling or did it happen kind of slow-"

"Damn, Michonne. I don't know if I can explain," he broke off. "Why are you asking?"

Michonne paused. "Because…" she swallowed, resolving to let Mike in, "You know Rick Grimes?"

Mike did laugh then, a deep chuckle that was familiar to her. "Yeah girl, everyone knows Rick."

"We've been making out a little bit since prom," it came out almost as one word. Mike's laughter intensified.

"Oh snap! Are you feeling him?" Mike's voice perked up.

It was Michonne's turn to laugh. "I think so. I mean, he's a good kisser or whatever."

"Props girl. Everyone's been trying to pull him since he bounced Lori's trifling ass." Mike sounded impressed. "I thought I saw you sneak off together when those girls were fighting."

Michonne's stomach dropped. "Do you think anyone else noticed?"

"So what if they did?" Mike scoffed. "You embarrassed to be making out with the second hottest guy in school?"

"The second hottest?" Michonne paused. "Who's the first?"

"Girl, you dated him." They both laughed. "Rick's all right though. Why are you buggin'?"

Michonne considered this. "I'm leaving for the West Coast the end of summer. I don't know what Rick's doing. I don't want to get attached."

Mike snorted. "You sound pretty attached to me, Chonne."

She swallowed. "You think it's a good idea?"

"I think you can't plan life. Otherwise, we'd be together heading for college." They both paused. The once plausible plan seemed like it was from a whole different universe now. "Life does its own thing, you know?" Mike sighed.

"I guess so," Michonne exhaled.

"Look, I don't mean to be like this, but could you keep this on the low? I'm not ready for everyone to know yet."

"I won't tell," she promised. "Tell Terry I'll be cool."

"I will," Mike sounded relieved. "I'll talk to you later."

"Later," Michonne began to pull the phone from her ear.

"Oh, Chonne?" Mike cut back in. "Cut Rick some slack. He's not a bad guy."

Michonne smiled. "Maybe I will."

"I would if I were you," Mike laughed, leaving the conversation on a high note.

Michonne sat on her bed, her head spinning. Saturday stretched before her, the possibility of an afternoon off before work. She'd planned to call her girls, maybe go to the mall. Instead, she dropped her bare feet to the carpet and beat a hasty trail to the kitchen. She returned to her room moments later, holding her mother's phone book.

A few minutes later, she clutched the receiver in a death grip, trying to steady her breathing.

"Grimes residence," a woman with a thick southern accent greeted her.

"Is Rick there?" Michonne's voice rose at least three octaves as nerves overtook her.

"He's round here somewhere. May I ask who's calling for him?"

"Michonne," she inhaled roughly, listening to the woman on the other line holler for Rick in the distance.

"Hey Chonne," Rick was breathless on the other end, but his deep voice still gave her goosebumps. "What's up?"

"Hey Rick," she lost her train of thought momentarily, shaking just the slightest.

"Hey," he repeated, sounding amused. "How are you doing?"

Michonne steeled her resolve. "I'm good. I was calling to see if you wanted to hang out today." She felt like she was going to be sick.

"Outside? In public?" He kept his tone teasing but the shock was plain in his voice.

"If you want to," Michonne licked her lips, waiting.

"I'll come get you," Rick told her.

-l-l-l-l-

"Just take it slow," Rick cautioned her, adjusting the helmet on her head. "I put you on one of the easy ones."

"Why?" Michonne smirked at him, "You think I can't handle it?"

Rick grinned. "I've got no doubt you can. I just didn't expect you to wear a dress."

Michonne tugged at the skirt of her yellow baby doll dress. "You don't like it?"

Rick cocked a brow. "I like it," his eyes raked over her appreciatively. Beneath his blue flannel, his neck began to flush. He cleared his throat, handing her the aluminum bat. "Let's see what you've got."

Michonne stepped into the cage, clutching the neck of the bat. She was acutely aware of Rick's eyes on her. He retreated to a corner behind her, leaning against the metal fence.

"Ready?" he asked, holding up a quarter.

"Ready," Michonne bent her knees, choking up on the bat. Rick dropped the coin in.

The first ball shot out, arcing towards her. She swung, clipping it. It sped off sideways.

"Not bad," Rick observed. She felt his hand on her back, nudging her forward. "Rotate your hips more."

The second ball soared towards them. She swung again, striking with more force.

"Like that?" She swung again, sending a third pitch flying.

Rick whistled lowly. "Not bad at all." He watched her connect with five more in succession. Michonne let the bat hang loose in her hand as the batting cage powered down.

"Your turn?" she asked, extending it to him.

Rick grinned. "C'mon." He led her past several rows of cages. Down here, the machines were pitching much faster, whipping the baseballs in almost as fast as Rick could throw them. He lifted the helmet off of her head and placed it over his navy blue ball cap, tossing her ponytail playfully over her shoulder. Michonne smiled as she watched him seize a wooden Louisville Slugger and head into the cage.

"Don't choke," she teased as he lined up with the plate, swinging experimentally.

He just grinned, dropping his quarter in. Michonne's taunts disappeared.

Rick was very, very, good at this.

She watched the muscles in his arms flex as he connected with ball after ball, sending them sailing out toward the back fence. His whole body moved in unison, working as his hips swung time and time again. A faint sweat broke out across his face, adding to the whole picture.

"You ok?" he asked her a few minutes later, stepping outside the cage and wiping his forehead.

"Just thirsty," she managed to squeak out. Her mouth had gone completely dry.

"I'll buy you a drink," Rick reached for her hand.

Michonne took it without question.

They ended up in a booth inside, their backs to the wall. Rick's leg was pushed flush to hers, the jeans scratching her bare skin. She sipped her slushie nervously.

"When are you going to let me take you out?" he adjusted his ball cap, tilting the bill up so that he could look at her.

"We're out now," Michonne took another gulp.

Rick reached around her, tucking his arm around her waist. "Slurpies don't count," he leaned in, tucking his chin to her shoulder.

Michonne turned her body towards him, leaning into him. "When's our next day off?" she asked him.

Rick grinned brightly. "I'll have to check." He kissed her cheek. "Sorry about yesterday," he whispered. "I didn't know you weren't used to…" he trailed off.

Michonne flushed with embarrassment. "No; I'm sorry. I should have known—"

Rick cut her off, stealing a sip of her drink. "I just kinda figured you and Mike…I mean, I don't see how a guy can kiss you and not get excited. I saw him at the theater yesterday with his friend. What's his name?"

Michonne choked. "Terry," she coughed out.

"Yeah," Rick paused, his eyes drifting to the plate of French fries between them. "Sometimes I wonder…" he cut off. "I guess, I just don't get how he could be with you and stay calm. He must be Superman."

Michonne couldn't meet his eyes. She was going to keep Mike's secret, even if it killed her. Three years together bought him her allegiance.

"I just don't think he felt that way about me, is all," she shrugged.

Rick rubbed circles into her waist, his fingers drifting to the hem of her skirt. "I don't think he likes girls," Rick burst out. "Which is totally cool…it's just," he fiddled with his hat with his free hand.

Michonne's eyes went wide. "Why do you say that?"

"I don't mean to talk shit or anything," Rick sounded nervous. "I just see him sometimes with his friend late at night at the theater. They don't seem like friends." He noticed her expression at last. "Shoot, sorry Chonne. I didn't mean to freak you out."

"You didn't," she cut him off. She turned fully to look at him, their knees touching. "Look, Rick, you can't tell anyone else this."

Rick's brows jumped in surprise. "I haven't. I wouldn't—"

"I…caught Mike yesterday," she disclosed. "We had a talk. We're cool, but he doesn't want anyone to know."

Rick turned beet read. "Oh," he exhaled. "Yeah, of course I wouldn't say anything. It ain't my business." He took another sip of her drink. "That's explains it though."

All at once, Michonne found herself laughing. Rick joined her, the tension broken.

"Did you know?" he asked her.

"No," she chuckled. "I feel kinda bad about it."

Rick shrugged. "Don't beat yourself up. I'm actually kind of relieved."

"Oh yeah?" she asked. Her hand drifted down to his.

"Yeah," he kissed her softly. "Less competition."

She returned the gesture, pressing her mouth to his, the now familiar heat starting to rise inside of her. "Can we go to your truck?" she asked him quietly, aware of the staff and visitors around them.

"Yeah," Rick stood up, almost knocking their food over in his haste. "I know a place."

They hurried out, Michonne giggling, her heart pounding.

-l-l-l-l-

Rick's truck was parked in the shade of an outcropping of trees. Michonne had been to this lake often, frequenting it in the summers with Mike and Sasha and the rest of their friends. Normally though, it was a reprieve from the heat, a way to cool off. Currently, she felt like she was burning up.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," Rick's voice was heavy in her ear, his warm breath sending chills through her.

She shifted her hips in the backseat of his truck, the pressure between them almost unbearable. "Just, go slow..." she exhaled, gripping his arms.

"I will," he promised, kissing her. She relaxed against him. "Just lay back, ok?"

Michonne complied, her stomach shaking. Rick hovered over her, continuing peppering her exposed skin with his lips.

"Have you done this before?" She whispered.

He lifted his head to look at her. His hat was somewhere in the front seat, his curls free from its confines. She reached for his hair, calming herself. Rick shut his eyes, leaning into her touch.

"I haven't in a while, Chonne," he ran his hand over her leg, stopping at her thigh. "I won't do anything you don't want me to. We can stop-"

Throwing caution to the wind, Michonne leaned up, crushing her mouth to his. They settled into familiar territory, exploring one another with open-mouthed kisses. Their breathing came in gasps as she grew more bold. She groped beneath his flannel shirt, delighting in the tightening of his muscles as she touched him. He moved against her with a strangled groan, tentatively rolling his hips. Michonne didn't pull back this time, but pressed up into him.

Her tentativeness melted away as Rick kissed her deeper and deeper, tugging gently at her hair, clutching at her hips. She bent a knee, bringing her leg up around his waist. He fell forward into her, pressing against her center. She moaned out loud. Acting on instinct, she reached down, palming the bulge in his jeans.

The sound Rick made nearly caused her to fall apart. His hand tightened around her thigh, sliding up. His fingers just brushed the fabric of her underwear.

"Can I-" he began, breathless.

"Yes!" She nearly screamed it in her excitement. Her slender fingers fiddled with the button of his jeans. "Can I?" She asked.

Rick ripped his hand from her leg, almost popping the button off as he jerked his zipper down. Michonne wasted no time, snaking her hands in.

"Shit," Rick nearly collapsed into her. His head lulled forward, settling in the nook of her neck. Michonne pressed harder, enjoying his weight on top of her.

"Like that?" She asked, gripping him.

"Yeah," he panted, moving back to his original task. At the first touch of his hand against her center, Michonne let out a shuddering cry. "Like that," he whispered nipping at her lips.

-l-l-l-l-

"Excuse me," Rick's voice was light as he shifted past her in the kitchen at the theater. His hand brushed her waist, lingering just a moment too long.

"You're good," Michonne kept her voice light, even though her insides seemed to liquefy. The echo of Rick's touch lingered all over her body, the aftershocks of their afternoon tryst.

"Rick, can you help me?" From the lobby, Zeke called Rick's name.

"Coming!" He called back, hurrying to the door. He paused, spinning on his heel. In a flash, he kissed her on the lips before heading out towards Zeke.

Alone in the kitchen, Michonne didn't bother to hide her smile.


	5. Nothing Compares 2 U

Michonne missed Rick.

It was ridiculous, really. It'd been less than 72 hours since they'd seen one another. It shouldn't have been that big of a deal. Perhaps it was the fact that a week loomed ahead without him. Or maybe she'd just gotten used to having him around. It was more than just the making out. They'd spent the better part of this first month of the summer together, working, talking on the phone, watching movies during their breaks. Michonne hadn't considered the implications of being without him until he kissed her goodbye after their shift last Wednesday, bound for Florida and a summer trip with his family.

As much as she was happy he was enjoying himself, work felt lonely without him. She suddenly had large gaps in her schedule, time to fill. This reality threw into sharp relief just how much the teenage boy had become a fixture in her day to day.

It was odd, Michonne thought, that you could spend your whole life without something, get one taste of it, and then become addicted. Before this all began, she didn't know that a person could be habit-forming. She and Mike had been close, and she'd always wanted to see him. Even now, they still talked, their friendship solidified by time and the secret between them. Michonne reveled in this, and loved her every moment spent with Sasha, with her family, with Andrea and the rest of her friends.

It was nothing like being with Rick.

She thought about him almost all of the time, in the shower, on the way to work, in the downtime between shifts. She tried more times than she cared to count to reason herself out of this infatuation. It didn't seem to matter.

She was sprung on Rick Grimes, and there was nothing she could do about it.

The days dragged by without him, and Michonne seized the opportunity to get back on schedule. There were books she wanted to read before college started, and she brought them with her to work, devouring them between films. She got her finances in order, calculating that if she picked up a couple extra shifts, she would have enough for a semester or two at school. She hung out with Drea and Sasha on her day off, went to the pool like the old days.

All of this was fine and dandy, fun even. She still missed Rick.

She confided this in Mike. Her ex laughed.

"You've got it bad," he chuckled into the phone. "You should probably tell him."

"You think he doesn't know?" she cradled the receiver between her ear and shoulder, applying glitter nail polish with her free hand.

"I think he's hoping you do," Mike snorted. "but you should probably say it."

"And then what happens?" Michonne questioned, her stomach turning at just the thought.

"I'm not a fortune teller. How should I know?" Mike laughed again. "Damn Chonne, some things you have to take a chance on." Michonne considered this. Mike pressed his point. "You've already been feeling each other up in his truck. Why is a damn date so hard to picture?"

It wasn't. Michonne thought about it all the time, more than she was comfortable with. She'd already conjured up images of what a relationship with Rick might look like. She liked it. She liked it a lot.

"What are you and Terry going to do when you go to college?" Michonne asked.

Mike sighed. "Call each other, save our money and drive to see each other. I don't really know. We'll just have to take it day by day."

"Doesn't that scare you?" Michonne asked.

"Figuring out I liked guys scared me," Mike said pointblank. "A little distance ain't going to spook me."

Michonne considered this at her shift the next day. Saturday nights were always the busiest. It may have been a blessing in disguise. There was little time to dwell on her thoughts as she ran around, serving food and tearing tickets. The lobby was so packed that Michonne didn't even notice Lori come in. She heard the girl before she saw her.

"He called me last night," Lori's voice carried across the crowded space. She was with Jessie. The blonde was listening attentively.

"He did?" there was disappointment in Jessie's voice. "I thought he was mad at you."

"Well, all couples fight," Lori shook her hand, gesturing as though it was all so inconsequential. "But what we have is special. I think he's starting to see that."

"So, are you getting back together?" Jessie asked.

Michonne almost dropped the carton of candy in her hand. From the corner of her eye, she could see Lori smirking.

"It's just a matter of time," Lori full out grinned, shaking out her hair.

"What about Shane?" Jessie looked confused.

"What about him?" Lori shrugged. "Rick and I aren't back together yet."

"Is he meeting us in the movie?" Jessie asked.

"On his break," Lori confirmed.

Anger rushed through Michonne, both for herself and for Andrea. She had an urge to throw the candy in her hand at Lori, but she refrained.

"Can I help you?" she asked through clenched teeth as the two girls approached the counter.

"Diet Coke," Lori rattled off without looking at her. Jessie parroted her order.

Michonne filled their cups with shaking hands, wishing more than anything that she could go off. Lori had played this little game in school, but Michonne had never before come in the crosshairs. She wanted to yank that long brown hair of hers and rub her face in the dirt.

Instead, she slid them their pops, took their money, and watched them sashay off.

The anger continued to burn hours later as Michonne arrived home. She slammed into her bedroom, kicking her shoes off and reaching for the phone. She needed to tell Drea about Shane's trifling ass, but she couldn't bring herself to do it right now.

As usual, her mind was on Rick.

Had she waited too long to stake her claim? She'd assumed that Rick had feelings for her. It wasn't as though he tried to hide that fact. Still, doubt crept in.

Was she Rick's Shane—the fill-in for the girl he really wanted to be with?

Her phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. She dove to answer it before her parents woke up, expecting Mike on the other line, or maybe Sasha or Drea. She steeled herself for having to talk about Shane Walsh's cheating ass.

"Hello?" she slid onto her bed, pulling her uniform off as she went.

"Hey there," the southern accent caught her completely off guard.

"Rick?" she perked up at once, a grin coming to her face. "How are you calling right now?"

"Did you know that the Disney World Resort does free long distance calls?" he asked her, a laugh dancing on his voice.

Michonne breath caught in her chest. She wondered for a split second who he'd called first with that free long distance.

"How have you been?" she asked, trying to center her thoughts.

"Good. Hanging out with my family," he answered. "They're all asleep right now though. Figured I'd sneak in a call."

Her pulse raced, the sensation familiar by now. "What have you been doing?" Michonne settled against her pillows.

"Visited a school out here," Rick told her. "We just got to Disney today. My brother, Jeff, is having the time of his life. He's passed out in the room with me."

"We won't wake him up?" Michonne asked.

Rick laughed. "Nah. Mickey Mouse wore him out."

Michonne found herself giggling. A comfortable silence spread between them. She inhaled sharply. "I miss you," she blurted out.

Rick chuckled. "I miss you too, Chonne," he told her quietly. "It ain't the same out here without you."

"Did you like the school in Florida?" she asked nervously.

"It was all right. Missing one thing though," he said.

"What's that?" she asked.

"You," he said nonchalantly.

Her heart seemed to leap inside of her, rushing up her throat. "It's a long way from California," she ventured.

"It is," Rick agreed. "USC, though, that's a whole lot closer."

"Would you go all the way out there?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"Maybe," Rick shifted on the other end. "Depends though."

"On what?" her hand was trembling around the phone.

"On whether you want me there," he said.

"It's a good school…" Michonne ventured. "The athletics program is excellent."

"Sure," Rick laughed. "But there's plenty of good schools with good teams. I've got a lot of choices. I ain't asking about their baseball team though. I'm asking you if _you_ want me there."

"I do," the answer came out before she could think too much on it. Her stomach was trembling, her insides like jello. She was more nervous than the first time they'd touched one another in the backseat of his truck. Physical intimacy came easier to her than these conversations.

"Then maybe it's something we can talk about," Rick said. She could almost hear his smile through the phone.

"Maybe at dinner when you get back," Michonne hinted. The fear was ebbing out of her, leaving only joy in its place.

"You asking me on a date?" Rick teased.

"No," Michonne fired right back. "I'm telling you to take me out."

"About time," Rick laughed. "I've been trying all damn summer."

"I know," Michonne flushed, glad he couldn't see her. "But I had to be sure."

"I've been sure about you for a while, Chonne," Rick's voice lowered in timbre. "Glad you caught up."

She shivered, heating up as though he was there in front of her. She rubbed her bare legs together, trying not to imagine the sensation of his hands on her. "Come back soon," she told him.

"I will," he promised.

"Bring me back something from Disney World," she added, laughing to lighten the mood.

"Got you something already," he laughed right along with her. "I better go, Chonne. Got to be up early tomorrow. Sleep well, beautiful."

"Sleep well, cutie."

Michonne lay awake in her bed after Rick hung up, smiling with the phone in her hand, Rick's laughter still ringing in her ears. It wasn't until the next morning that she realized she hadn't mentioned Lori at all.

She found that she didn't really give a damn.

In fact, Michonne didn't notice Lori again until a week later. Saturday night was busy, as usual. Lori was poised in the lobby with her clique, dressed to the nines and draped artfully over the arcade machines. Her face lit up when Rick walked in for his shift, a backpack thrown over his shoulder.

"Hi Rick," She swung her hair, stepping into his path.

"Hey," Rick sidestepped her, barely sparing her a glance.

The whole group watched in disbelief as Rick marched up to the counter, grinning wider the closer he got to Michonne. He swung the backpack down at her feet, pulling her in for a hug.

"Nice to have you back," Michonne smiled at him, beaming.

"Nice to be back," he reached into the bag, pulling out a large, stuffed Minnie Mouse. He presented it to her with a flourish. Michonne let out a squeal of delight, accepting her gift.

"Thank you," she leaned forward, kissing Rick square on the lips. He eagerly reciprocated.

"My pleasure, beautiful," Rick winked, disappearing into the kitchen to get ready for his shift. Michonne sat Minnie on the counter beside her, delighted by her present. The sound of someone clearing their throat pointedly brought her attention back to the here and now.

"Can I help you?" Michonne asked, more enthusiasm in her voice than a week ago. "Diet cokes?" She guessed.

Lori blinked back at her, rage and shock evident on her face. Her whole group was staring, wide-eyed.

Michonne served them the pops, uncaring. "Enjoy the show!" she called after them. They moved away in a gaggle of whispers and side eyes.

Rick reappeared, straightening out his vest. He rubbed Michonne lightly on the back.

"Don't let her bother you," he told Michonne, kissing her cheek.

"She doesn't," Michonne promised him, getting back to work with a smile.


	6. Vision of Love

Michonne adjusted the bill of her borrowed baseball cap, tugging her braids free as she squinted up the first base line. Rick was beside her, stealing nachos from her lap, a look of pure elation on his face as the game unfolded before them. He'd been excited all day, from the moment he arrived to pick her up for their date. His enthusiasm was infectious. Coupled with the warm summer weather, a road trip to Atlanta, and the promise of a whole day together, Michonne was thoroughly enjoying their first "real" date.

The crack of the bat startled her, causing her to flinch as a foul ball went soaring towards them. A fury of motion whirled around them as the crowd all surged for the ball. In a moment, Rick released the nachos, reaching up to snag the baseball before it landed on them. It smacked hard in his palm.

"Here you go," he dropped it in to Michonne's open hand, shaking out the sting of his own, a smile on his face. Michonne glanced up with just enough time to catch a replay on the jumbotron above them. She and Rick looked good together, especially when he settled down beside her, draping his arm over her shoulder. She had a sudden vision of him on that screen one day, on the pitcher's mound instead of in the stands.

"Thank you," she traced the laces, rolling the ball experimentally.

"No problem," he kissed her cheek, returning to their nachos.

Michonne studied the baseball, questions rising in her mind. Rick was good at this, almost effortlessly so. By the look on his face, this was what he lived for. Thoughts tumbled in her head as she watched him watch the first few innings.

"Rick," she began, drawing his attention to her during the seventh inning stretch. Rick tore his eyes from the Braves to look at her.

"What's up?" he smiled at her, "Are you having fun?"

"I am," she nodded, reaching for his hand. "I've never been to a pro game."

"I hoped you'd like it," he tugged at her hair. "I used to see you at games at the school."

Michonne grinned despite herself. "Well, the pitcher was cute. I heard he graduated though."

"Did he?" Rick returned her humor lightly. "I was wondering what happened to that guy."

"I heard he's looking for schools," Michonne broached the subject cautiously.

"He is," Rick confirmed, at last seeming to notice where she was going with this.

"You could be doing this one day," she gestured to where the pitchers were warming up in the bullpen.

"That's the goal," he told her easily.

"You need to pick the right school," she swallowed. "The one that gives you your best shot."

Rick paused, pinning her with that gaze of his. Michonne met his blue eyes, swallowing her nervousness. "Chonne, I think you're worrying too much about this," he told her, measuring his words carefully.

"I think you're not worrying enough," she countered.

Rick sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Michonne—"

"I know you like me a lot," she burst out, trying to explain her point. "And Rick, I like you so much but we can't just change our plans for each other."

"Who says I'm changing anything?" he looked amusedly at her.

"You're thinking about going to California—"

It was his turn to cut her off. "I am," he said firmly, "because USC has one of the best baseball programs in the country. They've been vetting me since last year. Them and a bunch of other schools."

Michonne blinked in surprise. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked.

"For one thing, I didn't want to talk about it till I made a choice. The less people who know, the better, since I was leveraging a bunch of offers." He adjusted his baseball cap then reached for her hand, coaxing the foul ball from it. "For another thing, we've been hanging out for just a few weeks. I didn't even know if you liked me. Took you a month to let me take you on a date." He tilted his head at her, amused.

Michonne flushed, embarrassment coursing through her. "I thought you were going to go for me," she admitted.

Rick grinned, "It's definitely a huge perk," he told her. "But Chonne, I ain't an idiot. I've wanted to play ball for a living since 6th grade. You ain't the only one with plans."

She dropped her eyes, her cheeks burning. "Oh," she said simply. On the one hand, the news was a relief. On the other hand, she was deathly embarrassed.

"Hey," he gripped her chin lightly, turning her face back to his. "I talked to you about it because I want you to be part of that plan. Kind of like the way I want to be part of yours."

It suddenly didn't matter to Michonne that they were in broad daylight with thousands of people around. She kissed Rick, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. He caught her easily, molding his mouth to hers. Someone a few rows back let out a wolf-whistle. Michonne pulled back. Rick was flushed beneath his hat, obviously pleased. "You think we can make it work?" she asked lowly, relaxing her head against his.

"I've got a good feeling," Rick settled her against him, holding on to her waist. She could feel his heart thumping against her chest. He grinned cheekily. "Plus, it'll be fun to kick your school's ass every baseball season."

"Hey now," Michonne scoffed, pretending to pull back. Rick's grip tightened around her as he laughed. "Jackie Robinson played for the Bruins. Who played for the Trojans, again?"

"About a hundred All-Americans," Rick smirked, "And a few dozen World Series champs." He ticked the numbers off on his fingers.

"But were they Jackie Robinson?" Michonne asked.

"Nah," Rick admitted, kissing her forehead. "They weren't Robinson."

"I rest my case then," she beamed up at him. Rick laughed, adjusting her under his arm as the game began again. "Maybe USC will have a legend soon," she ventured.

Rick grinned. "See? We're figuring it out already."

-l-l-l-l-

"Where are we going?" Rick tugged her to her feet at the top of the ninth inning.

"I've got a surprise," he told her, helping her gather her bag. "You brought clothes for dinner, right?" he asked her.

"I did," the thought of the dress in her purse was enough to make her flush. She'd picked it just for him.

"Good," Rick steered them up the stairs to the elevator. An attendant beckoned them in. Rick fumbled with something in his pocket, flashing the scraps of paper at the employee.

"All right," the attendant looked impressed. "Third floor it is," he pushed the button with a flourish.

"What's on the third floor?" Michonne asked, curious now. Their seats had been phenomenal downstairs.

"The surprise," Rick countered easily.

The doors slid open, admitting them. Michonne's eyes widened. This was nothing like downstairs. Concrete and bright paint faded here into modern angles and soft lighting. Hard-backed chairs were now sofas and dining tables. There was even carpeted flooring.

"What is this?" she asked, turning towards Rick.

"It's the suite level," Rick responded. He too looked impressed. "I always wanted to come up here. Figured I'd have to wait till I went pro, but now…" he turned to smile at her. "They do dinners after the games and it's a special occasion."

"What's the occasion?" she asked, squeezing his hand.

"Our first date. Gotta make an impression," he kissed her cheek. "I'm going to go change. I think there's a ladies' room that way," he gestured.

A few minutes later, Michonne stood in the lavish bathroom, smoothing her hands over the fabric of her dress. She wondered, for perhaps the millionth time, whether the dress was too much (or rather, too little). It's not that anything was hanging out, really. It's just that it clung to her shape in a way that she new would make her parents worry.

This wasn't a dress a high school student would wear. Then again, she wasn't really a high school student anymore.

She took a deep breath and exited the bathroom.

"Wow," Rick reddened when he saw her, eyeing her outfit appreciatively. "Damn Chonne," he breathed.

Michonne tugged at the black fabric, working it back down her thighs. She'd heard of the effects of the little black dress, but this was her first time seeing it in action. Under anyone else's gaze she might have felt exposed. Under Rick's she just felt excited.

His eyes scarcely left her as they were escorted to their private suite. The game went on in the background, but Rick's attention was clearly elsewhere. He sat beside Michonne, a blush on his cheeks that seemed in no hurry to disappear. Michonne tried with difficulty to focus on the menu. Her mind was racing, filling rapidly with the memory of Rick's lips on hers, of being in close quarters, in the sounds he made when she touched him. She chanced a glance at him and almost came undone. He was staring at her across the table, looking completely floored.

"What's wrong?" she asked tentatively. She turned to look at the scoreboard. The Braves had won. The crowd was filing out now.

Rick shook his head, blinking the haze away. A smile was playing on his lips. "I just can't believe you're here, that's all."

Michonne flushed. "I've been right next to you all summer," she reminded him.

Rick shrugged. "Not the way I wanted you to be."

She laughed shakily. "You haven't been asking me out that long, Rick. Don't be a drama king."

"Doesn't mean I wasn't thinking about it," he didn't hesitate to answer her.

Michonne bit her lip, finding it hard to hold his gaze. "You were with Lori…"

"For way too long," he finished her sentence. "I think I just got used to it. Everyone expected us to be together, so we were," he shrugged. "And you were taken," he added.

"Why didn't you ever come talk to me?" she asked, surprised.

"I don't know," he laughed nervously. "I had some stuff to figure out."

"Like what?" she pressed.

Rick looked off behind her for a moment, swallowing hard. "Like if it was enough to stick around and be the biggest guy in King County, or whether I wanted to take a shot and go for more." He drew his eyes back to her.

Michonne smiled nervously, her heart racing. "Did you figure it out?" she asked.

"I did," Rick reached for her hand beneath the table. Michonne took it. "I know I waited way too long, but I got to take a chance and see where I end up. Maybe I'll be right back here one day, sitting on the porch with the same people we went to school with."

"Or maybe you'll be in the MLB," she encouraged him.

"Maybe," he agreed, grinning at her. "I'm following your lead, Chonne."

"What do you mean?" she asked, surprised.

"You always go for what you want. Always," he laughed. "We had class together freshman year. English, remember?"

She nodded. They'd been so young then, she'd almost forgotten. It was just after her family had come to King County.

"They tried to ban that book, _To Kill a Mockingbird._ You weren't having it," his laughter escalated.

"It's an amazing book," Michonne fired up at the memory. "Their reasons for banning it were such crap. And we didn't even get to read it!"

"They put it back on the list the year after us," Rick told her. "And it was a good book. I read it. And a bunch of other students will now too, because you went for it."

Michonne blushed, her dark skin turning dusky. Rick looked at her, almost beaming. "Sometime it pays to fight for things you want," she said quietly.

"It does," he agreed. "Chonne, will you be my girlfriend?" he asked.

For once, Michonne didn't hesitate.

"Yes."

-l-l-l-l-

"Rick," she called his name as he sucked on her pulse point. She scraped her nails down his back, ruffling the fabric of his dress shirt.

He pulled back enough to allow her to unfold her legs from beneath her. She spread them out, wrapping them around his narrow waist. He let out a groan, grasping her thighs and pinning her to the seat.

"Shit," he cursed, lowering his head to her chest. "You're going to kill me, Chonne."

"Sorry," she panted, threading her hands in his hair. He began to trail kisses along her collarbone, toying with the hem of her skirt.

"Don't be," he assured her, glancing up. Michonne tugged his face towards hers again, coaxing his mouth open against hers. Their tongues dueled, hands wandering. She felt dizzy, flushed, needy in a way she wasn't used to. She squeezed her legs around his waist, desperately seeking to lessen the pressure between them.

"Rick," his name slipped from her lips again. "Can you?" unsure what she was asking for, she rolled against him.

"You want me to touch you?" he asked, nipping at her ear. She shuddered.

"Please," her hands groped for his waist band. She was clumsy in her motions, but Rick wasn't much better. He gripped her hips almost painfully tight, lifting her up enough to work his hands beneath her. She leaned back against the seat, panting. She reached for him, guiding his fingers to where she desperately needed him.

The first touch was enough to draw a low moan from her.

"Chonne," Rick rested his forehead against hers. "You're so damn beautiful."

"You are too," she breathed. She'd never seen a sight that she liked half as much as Rick with his hair mussed and his shirt unbuttoned.

"I want you so bad," he pressed a finger slowly into her. Michonne's body tightened around him, the intrusion new, but not unwelcome.

"Oh," she exhaled, clutching his arms. He watched the pleasure play out on her face. "I want you too," it was embarrassing to say, even with his hands under her skirt. He adjusted his position, leaning into her. Michonne feared for a moment that the pressure might kill her. She tossed her head back, writhing shamelessly against him.

He kissed her, smothering her moans. Blindly, she groped for him, grappling with his pants until she got them undone. His stomach was warm, the muscles tight as she touched him, reaching down to repay the favor he was doing for her. She grasped him and he detached from her mouth, letting out the sexiest sound she'd ever heard in her life.

She wanted him so badly that she could hardly think straight, especially when Rick began to rub at her harder, touching something inside her that nearly caused her eyes to cross.

"You're so beautiful," Rick repeated, his voice a low rumble. "You're so beautiful baby."

Michonne fell over the edge. The shock of it left her reeling, mouth open, bucking against him. Her eyes flew open and she took in the sight of her boyfriend, disheveled and beaming. He kissed her gently.

"You ok?" he asked, withdrawing from her.

Michonne could only respond by grasping him tighter, her resolve to make him feel good growing. He let out a string of curse words, reaching down to cover her hand with his own.

"Tell me how," she whispered.

"You're doing great," he hissed through clenched teeth. His eyes danced between her face and where her hands were, almost in disbelief. "Chonne, holy shit…"

On instinct, she leaned forward, sucking lightly at the place on his neck that always made him shiver, pressing her chest into him. His hands left hers as he reached for her, one hand firmly on her bottom, the other grasping her by the back of her neck.

"Does that feel good?" she asked him, breathless.

In answer, he came undone, burying his face in her neck. He collapsed against her, sated. Michonne held him for a moment.

"Damn," he exhaled, looking up at her with so much adoration that she couldn't help but smile. He sat up, fumbling for his gym bag below them.

"It's kind of messy," Michonne observed on a giggle. Rick nodded in agreement, chuckling.

"I didn't expect…this," he admitted, handing her a t-shirt from his bag. Michonne accepted it gratefully.

"Is this what sex is like?" she asked suddenly. She felt a tiny pang of regret that this was so new to her, and so familiar to Rick. If only they had met sooner…

"I don't know," Rick looked up at her. He coaxed the shirt from her hand, gently wiping at her legs. "But I'm guessing it's similar."

"You never?" Michonne couldn't help the smile that graced her face.

"Nah," he kissed her softly. "I've never."

"Do you want to?" she asked, unsure.

"One day, yeah," he grinned. "Especially if it's you. But not here," he gestured to the back of his truck. "And not right away."

"Ok," Michonne agreed, relieved. "It's probably good to wait." That's what her sexual education teachers and parents preached at least.

"Probably," Rick agreed with a laugh, tossing his soiled shirt to the floor. "I need to get you home before security catches us." He opened the door, stepping out on shaky legs. Michonne giggled at the sight. He shot her a petulant look. "It's your fault," he teased, reaching for her. "C'mon," he helped her down, walking her around the front passengers seat.

He held her hand as he drove, chatting amicably. Michonne contributed effortlessly, reminiscing on high school and speculating about the possibilities that laid ahead of them in college. By the time he dropped her off at her house, just in time for curfew, she was dead tired but reluctant to leave.

"I'll see you soon, baby," he used the pet name again, walking her to her door. "Thanks for coming out with me."

"Anytime," she promised.

Smiling, she watched him leave.

The answering machine in her room was blinking up at her as she readied herself for bed, but Michonne paid it no mind. Her head was filled with thoughts of her boyfriend, of how he fit into this new version of her plan.

She fell asleep that night and dreamed of the future.


	7. Talk to the Hand

No one in King County was remotely surprised when Rick Grimes punched Shane Walsh square in the face. In fact, many wondered why it had taken so long. After all, it was King County High's worst-kept secret that the baseball team's catcher had been caught with his mitt under the pitcher's girlfriend's skirt during their last semester of senior year. And even though Grimes didn't seem too fussed about it, it was clear that Walsh had earned an ass whooping. Fair was fair.

However, when the hit did come, the reason behind it left more than a few people thoroughly confused.

Most of them didn't even know that Rick and Michonne knew one another like _that_. Sure, they'd been prom king and queen, but they were both popular, so that made sense. Rick ran with the jocks, Michonne reigned over the intellectuals. Those worlds didn't often cross steams.

They must have crossed somewhere though, because apparently Rick Grimes and Michonne Bechet were routinely hooking up in Rick's truck somewhere near the lake. Or, so went the rumor.

Garrett heard it from Glenn who'd heard it from Maggie. Maggie got the story from her sister, Beth, who heard it from Daryl. Daryl found out from Carol when she saw Andrea crying behind the movie theater over Shane. Shane, who apparently didn't want to burden himself with monogamy, heard it from Lori.

Rick and Michonne were bumping uglies in the backwoods of Georgia. Lori was pissed, and Andrea was hurt that her friend hadn't told her. She'd called her at least five times last night, even left a message, but there was no response.

"Maybe she's busy with her new _boyfriend_," Andrea had sniffled through tears to anyone who would listen, drawing out the last word like it was a derogatory slur.

Sasha, by contrast, was likely to slap the next person who came up to ask her about it, insisting that it was none of her business and defending her friend. Reportedly, Jessie was bummed that she'd missed her shot.

And Rick? No one had ever seen him that angry before. To hear Zeke tell it, Rick didn't like it when people talked shit about his girlfriend. Shane learned this the hard way.

The facts were these: Shane's nose was broken, Rick's hand had seen better days, and Michonne and Rick's secret was out.

Michonne was just as shocked about it as everyone else.

-l-l-l-l-

"I'll see you tomorrow," Michonne called backward into the theater, waving goodbye at her manager. It'd been a long day. _Batman_ _Forever_ and _Pocahontas _had both released this weekend, and everyone and their mom had rushed the theater. She was dog tired, barely standing on her feet.

She eagerly locked the door to the building, spinning on her heel to head towards Rick's truck. He'd gotten off before her this afternoon, but he'd promised to pick her up.

She could hear him before she could see him, his low baritone rumbling across the parking lot. There was something in the sound that already didn't sit right with Michonne. Rick was talking to someone, and he didn't seem happy about it.

She squinted out into the dark, straining her eyes. Rick was outside of his truck, parked beneath a streetlamp. Shane Walsh was standing near him. Whatever the two boys were discussing, it did not look pleasant. This struck Michonne as odd. Rick had barely deigned to look at Shane since graduation, let alone talk to him.

Michonne sped up her steps, wanting to be near enough to hear what was going on without interrupting the exchange. Perhaps Rick had a score to settle with his old teammate. Michonne didn't want to be in the middle.

It wasn't until she heard her name get thrown around that she realized she was _already_ in the middle of it.

"Keep her name out of your mouth, Walsh!" Rick took a step toward the other boy, looking ready to kill.

"Why?" she heard Walsh's response as she quickened her steps. "You afraid I'm going to steal her too? Sounds like it'll be easy. Didn't take her long after Mike to start messing with you-"

The crack of bone meeting bone could be heard for at least 100 yards.

"Rick!" Michonne rushed forward, calling his name. The distance between the back door of the theater and Rick's truck in the parking lot seemed insurmountable.

"Say one more thing, Walsh. I dare you," Rick's voice was deadly serious as Michonne arrived on the scene, breathless and panicked.

"What happened?" she stepped over Shane, coming forward to grab Rick's bloodied hand. Zeke and Phillip were in the parking lot too, each looking equal parts bewildered and entertained.

"Walsh needs to learn to keep his mouth shut," Rick all but growled.

Shane chuckled, holding his bleeding nose as though it was of no consequence. "I ain't saying nothing no one else ain't already talking about. No one knew Michonne got down like that. The boys are excited she's on the market."

It was Michonne's turn for anger now. She whirled on her heel, looking down at Walsh. "What the hell are you talking about?" she hissed.

"You and Rick going to town in this pickup truck," Shane banged a free hand down on the hood. "Looks like Lori ain't the only notch in Grimes' belt now."

Rick made a motion to hit Shane again. Zeke held him back, catching his arm at the elbow.

"Walsh, get the hell out of here," the dark-skinned boy pushed space between the two adversaries.

"Tell 'em, Zeke," Shane challenged. "Tell her what they're saying about her."

Michonne turned expectantly to Zeke. The dreadlocked boy looked down at his feet, suddenly nervous. "I didn't believe it when I heard it," he rumbled out. "I'm sure I can't be the only one."

Her stomach dropped, her mind racing back to the answering machine she'd neglected to check this morning. She wondered how many people were talking about her now, how many people Lori had told.

"It ain't true," Rick came to Michonne's defense immediately. "Lori loves to talk shit. You know she made it up." He turned to her, a wild look in his eyes. "Chonne, I'm sorry. She'd probably just jealous—"

Michonne nodded, listening to Shane laugh lowly. "Can we go, Rick?" she asked. This was the last place on Earth that she wanted to be right now.

"Need a condom?" Shane called after them.

Rick made a motion to rush for him again, but Michonne grabbed his arm. "Let's just go," she said forcefully. Rick followed her to the truck door. He mumbled something to Zeke who nodded in agreement before turning to his girlfriend.

"Chonne," Rick began.

"Rick, really, I just want to get away from here," she shushed him, an odd calm settling over her. "We can talk in a minute."

Rick nodded, still flushed. His knuckles were beginning to bruise already. He winced as he threw the truck in gear.

"Can you drive?" Michonne reached for his hand. He let out a cry of pain that sent panic bolting through her.

Rick scowled, seeming to notice the state of his knuckles for the first time. "Do you think I broke it?"

Her heart pounded in her chest, thoughts of Rick's future, of his baseball scholarships, flashing in her mind. They needed to get to the ER. Michonne let him go, opening the car door with a bang. In seconds, she was out, stomping towards her new least-favorite person in King County.

"Walsh!" the sound of her voice hit Shane in the face like a slap. The smirk he was still wearing melted off of him. Even Zeke took a step backwards.

"Came back for more?" Shane questioned, his confidence not quite reaching his eyes.

"Shut up," Michonne snapped. She seized him by the front of his bloodied shirt, yanking the boy down towards her like he didn't have 3 inches and 30 pounds on her. "You're driving us to the hospital, now." Her tone left no space for argument. Shane tried it anyway.

"I ain't driving ya'll nowhere," he countered.

"Your nose is broken. If they don't fix it, not a girl in King County is going to want to hook up with you again, not even Lori. And if Rick ended up breaking his hand on your dumbass face, _you're_ really going to need the emergency room. Because I'll break more than your nose."

Shane blinked in surprise. "You wouldn't—"

"Try me," Michonne challenged. She reached for his face, preparing to hit him if necessary. A silence stretched between them. "Get in the damn truck, Shane."

Wordlessly, he complied.

Michonne sat in the backseat with Rick, clutching her boyfriend's uninjured hand as he glared daggers through the front seat. Shane navigated nervously, glancing at Michonne in the rearview mirror every few blocks. His face was smeared in blood, his nose sitting crookedly, already swollen and purple to match Rick's knuckles.

"You think your hand is broken?" he piped up suddenly.

If looks could kill, Rick would have dropped Shane dead in a glance.

"That would suck, dude. I ain't mean for it to go this far..." Shane continued rambling. "First Drea comes screaming at me talking about me cheating and crying and making a damn scene. Then Lori started up, claiming you embarrassed her and I don't know dude, it got me all worked up, man. You know how she is."

Rick continued to glare. Shane turned his attention to Michonne. "I didn't mean to talk about you like that. Lori was running her mouth and I got carried away."

"I'll deal with Lori later," Michonne promised him.

Shane swallowed thickly. Even Rick gave her a look of surprise. Michonne said nothing further, just kissed him gently.

"So ya'll are really dating then? They weren't bullshitting?" Shane asked.

"Walsh, mind your fucking business," Rick snapped at last, kicking the back of the seat.

For once, Shane shut up.

An hour later, Michonne sat alone in an anxiety-riddled vigil. Shane had been the first ushered through, Rick shortly afterwards. Michonne was not allowed to go with him. She dutifully called his parents, then her own.

The waiting room was cold, sterile, full of people in different forms of distress. A man to her right was bleeding in a steady trickle from his leg. To her left, a woman who sounded as though she was coughing up a lung vacated her plastic chair. Michonne glanced wearily around, looking for a familiar face.

"Chonne!" Sasha entered through the automatic doors, her head swiveling back and forth. Michonne almost cried in relief. She stood up, reaching for her friend.

"How are you here?" Michonne questioned, hugging her tightly.

"Your parents called mine. I figured you'd need a ride," she sat beside her, collapsing into the empty chair. "What the hell happened? I heard Rick went off on Shane."

"Punched him in the nose," Michonne confirmed, sitting back down.

"About time," Sasha nodded sagely. "I'm guessing Rick found out what everyone's been saying."

Michonne sighed, exhausted. "I really don't care what they say. It's not worth breaking a hand over." She glanced at the doors again, hoping to see a glimpse of Rick.

"So, you two are dating?" Sasha asked.

"We just started," Michonne explained. She hadn't intended to leave her friends out of the loop. "I meant to tell you, but we were still figuring things out."

Sasha was nonplussed. "I kind of already knew. Zeke and Rick are pretty close."

Michonne chuckled in surprise. "Are you dating Zeke?"

"Something like that," Sasha grinned. "We're still figuring stuff out too."

Michonne huffed, her eyes straying to the hallway Rick had been shuttled down. His parents had arrived in a cloud of worry, his mother pausing to hug her before bustling after her son. It was not the circumstances she envisioned meeting his family under.

"What the hell is going on?" she asked her friend. "I was gone for one day."

Sasha laughed ironically. "The same dramatic bull crap. Guess Lori didn't appreciate you showing her up at the movies. She had to save face somehow. She told her little crew that you and Rick were doing the dirty in his truck by the lake. Zeke told me that's where Lori and Shane hookup."

Michonne blushed, making a mental note to never frequent that spot again. "It wasn't the dirty. Not exactly."

Sasha shrugged. "I ain't mad at you. But Lori's having a damn field day."

"That's pretty sad," Michonne observed. "She needs to stay out of my business and get some business of her own."

Sasha laughed. "Well, the queen bee wasn't ready to be dethroned. You took her crown and her man."

"I'm so sick of this small town BS," Michonne lamented.

"There's only two months left," Sasha was unconcerned. "Then we're both out of here."

"If Rick broke his hand on Shane's face, I'm going to whoop both of their country asses," Michonne groused.

"I'm thinking Lori wants him to break it. Then Rick will be stuck here. Shane's dumb enough to be manipulated into doing her dirty work," Sasha shook her head. "And now Andrea is crying all over the place, acting like we didn't tell her that boy wasn't shit."

"I'm going to have to pay her a visit," the wheels in Michonne's head were furiously turning.

"Lori or Drea?"

Michonne snorted. "Both."

"Should I stop home and get my Vaseline and straight razor?" Sasha asked, half-joking.

Michonne dissolved into giggles, thankful for the reprieve from her emotions. The girls' laughter evaporated when Rick's father emerged from the double doors leading off into the hospital. Michonne was on her feet in a second, rushing forward.

"Mr. Grimes, is Rick's hand ok?" she asked, flustered.

Her boyfriend's father smiled wearliy at her. "The x-ray is going to take a while. You should go on home. I'll have Rick call you in the morning."

Michonne nodded, her worry mounting. "Ok," she paused. "Can you please tell him that I'm thinking about him and that I'm sorry?"

Mr. Grimes blinked in surprise. "Sorry for what?"

Michonne swallowed nervously. "He punched Shane because of something Shane said about me," she confessed.

"He punched Shane because he wanted to," Rick's father sighed. "It ain't your fault. Go home, hon. Rick will talk to you soon."

it was as polite of a dismissal as any, but Michonne left the hospital with a heavy heart.

"His hand is going to be fine, Chonne," Sasha assured her in her car.

Michonne nodded, mustering a smile that did not quite reach her eyes.


	8. Unplugging

By 10 am the next morning, Michonne had unplugged her phone from the wall, sick to death of fielding phone call after phone call from nosy classmates. Andrea's call this morning had been the very last straw.

_"I can't believe you didn't tell me Chonne. We're supposed to be best friends!" Andrea's plaintive wail rang in Michonne's ear._

_"Drea, it's honestly not that serious," Michonne held in her sigh. "It's been two days—"_

_"I told you the minute Shane and I happened," Andrea protested._

_Michonne remained silent. She had absolutely nothing positive to say about Shane Walsh._

_"People are saying you've been hooking up all summer. Is it true?" the dramatics continued._

_"Drea, we hung out at prom. We didn't decide to date until last week." Michonne did sigh then._

_"But you guys have been hooking up," Drea accused._

_"Drea, honestly, damn." Michonne rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I can't do this right now."_

_Michonne had scarcely slept all night, her mind filled with worry._

_"Of course you can't," Andrea snapped. "I haven't seen you all summer—"_

_"Because you've been hooking up with Shane," Michonne couldn't hold back any longer. "You haven't even called, Drea. And now that it's me with a boyfriend, and you without, you want to throw a fit."_

_"Shane and I are on a break!" Drea screeched, clearly affronted._

_"We should probably take a break then too," Michonne said with finality. Within seconds, she had hung the phone up and jerked the phone out of the wall._

Her boyfriend found her sitting on her parent's back porch, book in hand, enjoying a modicum of silence.

"Hey, baby," Rick announced his presence as he approached.

Michonne glanced up, her heart racing as she took in his bandaged hand. Rick held it up for her review.

"It's sprained," he said lightly, "Not broken."

"Thank God," Michonne gasped, the tension of 12 hours of drama leaving her shoulders all at once. Rick sat beside her on the porch swing, wrapping his good arm around her. "Thanks for checking on me," he kissed her temple. "My dad said you were there until after midnight."

Michonne nodded absently, her worried eyes still on the bandages wrapped around Rick's knuckles and wrist. "I wanted to make sure you were ok."

"I'm fine," he promised, grinning winningly. "From what I hear, you've been fighting for me all over town."

Michonne blushed. "I may have stopped by Lori's house this morning."

"And?" Rick prompted, looking enraptured by just the thought.

"And I don't think she's going to be gossiping about us anymore," Michonne said simply.

_"Lori!" Mrs. Wayne yelled into the house. "There's a girl from school here to see you!"_

_Michonne looked expectantly through the front door of the Wayne plantation-style home, her eyes on the staircase. The sight of Lori, still pajama-clad, flouncing down towards her made Michonne ball her fists. She tucked them under her arms, assuming an un-effected stance, determined not to deck this girl in front of her mother,_

_"Who is it—" Lori's face fell from its bright smile when she took in Michonne standing expectantly at the door._

_"We need to talk, Lori," Michonne began. Lori's mother looked startled._

_"What is this about?" she asked, finally realizing that this was no friend of her daughter's._

_"Mom, I'm not sure," Lori's voice took on a high, girlish tone. "Michonne and I barely know each other."_

_"Didn't stop you from talking about me all over town," Michonne cut in, her voice calm, her eyes on her slender adversary. "That didn't stop you from goading Shane into picking a fight with Rick."_

_"Rick?" Lori's mom scrambled to catch up. "I thought ya'll were dating. Lori, who is this?" Mrs. Wayne turned to her daughter._

_"Michonne Bechet," Michonne extended her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Wayne. I'm Rick's girlfriend." Mrs. Wayne shook it bemusedly._

_Lori flushed an unpleasant shade of puce, her skin going blotchy. "I don't know what you're talking about—"_

_"That's right," Michonne stepped forward. "You really don't. And I don't have time to stand here and tell you all of the reasons you're wrong. Just know this: Rick and I are dating now. And if you want to spend the summer hating, that's fine, because we're going to be gone soon anyway. But if I hear you running your mouth about me or him again, I'm going to tell everyone exactly the kind of person you are, Lori Wayne."_

_Michonne spun on her heel, retreating down the steps, leaving Lori sputtering at the door. Mrs. Wayne was already in full question mode, drilling her daughter about what Michonne had just said. Michonne didn't stick around to listen, but made her way back home, feeling better already._

Rick laughed beside her. "You did that in front of her mom?" he asked, impressed. "I bet Mrs. Wayne was pissed."

"I don't really care," Michonne shrugged. "As long as Lori keeps her mouth shut. Look what she almost did." She gestured to Rick's hand.

Rick sobered. "You know this ain't your fault," he raised his right fist. "Shane and I were going to go at it at some point."

"Rick," Michonne sighed, reaching for his hair. She stroked the curls, attempting to lessen the blow of what she was about to say. "This high school drama, it's going to be the thing that knocks you off your game."

"What do you mean?" Rick questioned, even as he leaned into her touch.

"I mean, Lori almost cost you your scholarship," she said.

"It ain't about Lori—"

"I know it isn't," Michonne assured him. "And it's not about Shane either, or Andrea, or whoever happens to be running their mouth about us." She nudged him. "You've got plans, and I've got plans, remember?"

Rick chuckled. "See this right here is the reason my dad's half in love with you." He kissed her chin.

Michonne looked down at him, surprised. "What?" she asked.

"My dad gave me this lecture already. Said it didn't matter how pretty or smart my new girlfriend was, punching people was something kids do. Said if I was going to date someone who had her shit together, I better have mine together," Rick recited.

Michonne flushed, pleased. "You have it together, Rick."

Rick held up a hand, rocking it back and forth. "Kind of. But I'm going to get it together. There's a clinic that the school's putting on for incoming athletes." He sat up straighter, looking her in the eye. "That crap thing is, it means me leaving a month early for California."

Michonne's stomach fell at that, but she nodded. "We'll have all of college to spend time with each other," she said bracingly.

"We do," Rick grinned, scooting closer to her.

"So you do what you need to do," Michonne cupped his chin in her hand. "And I'll do what I need to do."

Rick kissed her, momentarily distracting her. "I've got to start physical therapy for this," he told her, holding up his bandaged fist. "But I'm going to start training again. Pitching is competitive, and I want to start at USC."

"You will," Michonne affirmed, smiling at him. "I want to test out of Freshman math and English 101," she gestured to the large textbooks next to her. "If I can finish my undergrad in 3 years, then I can start law school early."

Rick's grin widened. "You will."

"So it's a deal then?" she asked. "We start grinding today?"

Rick looked thoughtful, his eyes flashing to the house behind her. "What if we start tomorrow?" he asked.

Michonne laughed. "Rick…"

"I'm serious," he chuckled. "I'm sick of being around people. What if it's just you and me for one more day?"

Michonne considered this. "Well," she looked back at her house. "My parents are at work for the next few hours. You can probably come in and watch tv."

_Ten minutes later…_

"Rick, baby, you've got to stop," Michonne gasped. They were spread out across her living room couch, pressed flush against the cushions. Rick had her pinned beneath him, not that she minded in the slightest. Still, it was the middle of the day, and it seemed unlikely that this could go any further.

"Why?" Rick's voice was muffled against her skin. She giggled as his tongue laved at her.

"You're getting me all…" she trailed off, biting back a moan as his kisses began to wander.

"All what?" he rumbled teasingly.

"All…" Michonne lost her train of thought. Rick's left hand was wandering up her thigh.

"All what?" he repeated, trailing his lips up her neck.

Michonne shivered, arching her back into him. "Your hand," she warned, struggling to get her thoughts out. "You're going to hurt it worse."

"I don't need my hand," Rick pulled back. "Do you trust me, baby?"

Michonne stared down at him. He was half-hidden in her hair, his curls mussed and his eyes shining. Michonne bit her lip, curious and nervous at once.

"Rick, of course. I just… I don't think I'm ready to…round home base," she ventured.

Rick ceased his teasing, craning his neck higher. It took him some maneuvering to keep his weight off his hand, but he managed to shuffle up her body until they were eye-to-eye. "That's not what I meant," his cheeks colored, going bright scarlet.

"Then what?" It was hard to concentrate with him on top of her.

Rick toyed with her hair, his blush deepening. "I've never done it before, but I wanted to try it, if you want…" he huffed, chuckling in embarrassment. "I just want to make you feel good, Chonne." He licked his lips.

Understanding finally clicked for Michonne. "Are you sure?" she rubbed her legs together, suddenly nervous. "You don't have to…" she cleared her throat, warmth flooding her cheeks. "I feel good just being with you."

Rick grinned above her. "I do too," he leaned down to kiss her. Michonne indulged in the sensation of his warm lips, leisurely nipping and sucking until they'd both worked themselves back into a fervor.

"If you really wanted to try…" Michonne heard herself saying between kisses. She licked at his neck.

"I do," Rick pulled back to fix her with his gaze. "If you do too."

"What do we do?" she questioned.

Rick sat up, maneuvering until he could kneel on the ground before her. Michonne glanced nervously at the windows, making sure the blinds were drawn tight.

'You sure you're ok, baby?" Rick's voice drew her attention back to him.

She nodded, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. "What should I do?"

"I have to move these," the fingers of his good hand toyed with the edge of her panties beneath her dress. "If you're ok with that."

She nodded again, chest heaving. Rick worked them down slowly, keeping eye contact. "Now what?" she breathed. Rick's eyes flicked downward. Michonne's whole body seemed to catch fire.

In response, her boyfriend began kissing up her legs, moving towards her center all the while dragging her forward. Michonne could feel his warm breath. The sensation alone caused her head to lull back.

"I'm going to kiss you," Rick told her. Without further ado, he proceeded to make good on his word.

Michonne collapsed into the cushions, body tight as a bow. Rick's touch was feather light, making her breathless.

"Is that ok?" he asked, voice muffled again.

"Yeah, it feels…" she was at a loss for words.

"Should I keep going?" he asked.

"Please," she seized her skirt, working it higher up her legs so that she could see him.

With a grin, Rick began again with less trepidation.

Unbidden, breathless instructions began to fall from her lips. Michonne ran her heels up and down Rick's clothed back, drawing him in deeper. She clutched the cushions in her fists, unraveling beneath Rick's attentions. He was proving himself to be a very good listener. Acting on some instinct to drive her wild, he rested his bandaged hand on her leg, reaching for her with his left hand. His mouth and fingers proved to be too much for her.

The sound that escaped her made Michonne very glad that they were home alone.

"So," Rick began, crawling up beside her on the couch. "Was that good?"

Michonne slumped against him, breathless and seemingly boneless. She managed to turn her head enough to kiss him on the cheek.

"Remind me to replay the favor sometime," she sighed, falling contently into his arms.

Rick held her. "No rush," he promised. They sat in comfortable silence. "Want to go to the lake or something?"

"No," Michonne shook her head. The lake had people. People meant sharing her boyfriend. She was in no mood for that.

"Want to watch some TV?" she suggested instead.

Laughing, Rick reached for the remote. "Sounds perfect."

He settled against her, relaxing into the couch.


	9. Kiss Me (Beneath the Milky Twilight)

"I don't want to leave."

Rick's voice was just a whisper, barely audible in the darkness. Michonne could hear the sounds of the picnic around the corner, still going in full force. Nearly everyone from King County was in attendance, as was tradition. She did not regret bailing out early. It was worth it to lie a hundred meters away with her boyfriend.

"I don't want you to leave," Michonne admitted. She shifted closer to him, dragging her body along the scratchy fabric of the blanket beneath. The grass was fragrant around them, calling to mind summers before, of childhood, of running through these fields with her friends. The memories seemed somehow far off.

Rick tugged her closer still, cosseting her in the familiar warmth of his arms. The Georgia humidity was unforgiving, but neither of them minded.

"This summer went by way too quick," Rick lamented. He lowered his head to hers, brushing her messy bun backwards so he could see her face.

"I hope it goes by quicker from now on," Michonne clung to him. They were skin to skin, separated by only the thin barrier of bathing suits and t-shirts. It somehow wasn't close enough.

"I'll call you whenever I can," Rick promised once again. "It's just four weeks. It's going to fly by."

Michonne remained quiet, choosing instead to bury her face in the cotton of her boyfriend's shirt. In the distance, the splashes of the pool party were still audible. It felt a million miles away. This day had whipped by, a BBQ disappearing in a flash. In 12 hours, Rick and his father would be stuffed in his truck with most of his possessions, headed for the other side of the country.

Michonne felt the absurd desire to cry.

"You'll be an expert on college by the time I get there," she valiantly attempted to cheer them both up. "You'll know all the cool spots."

He chuckled lowly. "It's just going to be me and a bunch of guys for hours on end. I don't know how much leisure time we'll have." He leaned back to look at her, grinning lopsidedly. "You're the one who's going to be here, partying it up."

Michonne snorted. "Learning to drive, you mean," she corrected. "Studying for tests."

"Promise me you'll have some fun," Rick adjusted his hold on her, his hands rubbing absently at her waist.

"I'll try," Michonne stroked his chin. He was sporting an impressive five 'o clock shadow he had not been capable of growing around graduation. "It's not going to be as fun without you here."

"Same," Rick kissed her, his hand cupping her face. Michonne was relieved to feel the callouses of his palm without the bandages between them. He'd been diligent in his efforts to heal. A month had raced by, here in a flash, gone in a blink.

"You'll have to tell me what the beaches are like in LA," Michonne dusted her lips along his face. "And Hollywood."

"I'm probably not going to go to the beach with a bunch of dudes," Rick laughed. "I'd rather see you in a bathing suit." His hands tugged gently at the elastic of her waist band, as though to prove his point.

"You didn't get enough of that today?" Michonne asked teasingly. The smell of chlorine still lingered on them.

"Never," he assured her with a cocksure grin. "Don't know how I could."

Michonne blushed, pleased with his compliment. "You don't look so bad yourself," her fingers made a trail down to his waist, running up under his shirt almost of their own accord.

"Wait till you see me after four straight weeks of baseball clinics," he teased.

"You're going to put me to shame," Michonne giggled.

"Nah, I doubt that," his eyes were wandering, his fingers toying with the edge of her shirt.

"Maybe you should look one last time, just so you don't forget," she suggested quietly, running her bare legs up his.

"I'm not going to forget," Rick promised her, lifting her shirt slowly. Michonne shivered despite the heat, dizzy at the sensation of his hands on her bare skin. He reached for his own t-shirt, tugging it over his head. She wasted no time in wrapping her arms around his bare back.

He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, as though he was committing it all to memory. His hands danced light patterns over her, mapping out the curves of her body. Michonne responded enthusiastically, her body coming alive at his touch, her heart swelling.

She was going to miss him. She told him as much, sealing her sentiment with deep kisses. He clutched tighter at her, drawing her legs around his waist. Michonne clung to him, allowing no space between them.

He rolled her beneath him, a familiar trick by now, but this time his movements had more urgency. He crushed his mouth to hers, drinking from her like a man starved. His hands burned into her skin, kneading at her, cupping at her frantically.

Need blossomed inside of her, hot and dizzying. A plaintive moan left her lips without her permission. Rick groaned against her.

"Chonne," Rick panted, "I want—"

He lost his train of thought, coming back for her lips. Michonne responded enthusiastically, holding him as close to her as possible.

"Rick, can we…" she trailed off, fisting a handful of his hair as his mouth reached her chest. He shoved the small triangles of her swimsuit aside, latching on. The warmth of his lips on her drew another moan.

"I want to, Chonne," Rick mumbled against her, unwilling to move his head too far from her bare skin.

"So, let's…" she gasped when his newly healed hand slipped beneath her swimsuit bottoms. She dug her nails into his bare shoulders, arching against him.

"I want to do it right," he whispered in her ear. "Take our time," he punctuated his statement with a series of wet kisses that left her breathless.

"Rick, I want you so bad," it was all she could think to say.

"Me too, baby." He pushed deeper into her, sending a shudder running through her body. "Let me do it right."

Michonne raked her fingernails down his back, tightening her legs around him. "It feels right to me." She felt desperate, needy. Rick let out a rattling breath, like his self-control was hanging by a thread.

Suddenly, he sat up, his eyes almost glowing in the dark. "I love you, Michonne."

As if on some cosmic cue, the Independence Day fireworks began to light up the sky, sending up sparks behind Rick's ahead. Michonne felt all of the emotion of the day release at once. Tears streaked down her cheeks, even as Rick's mouth descended on hers again.

"I love you too," she whispered in his ear as the explosions went off behind them. She sat up, straightening out her swimsuit. Rick paused, reaching for her t-shirt so that she could cover up. Michonne pulled it over her head, taking the brief reprieve to regroup. She wiped the saltwater from her face.

Rick stared up at her, unconcerned with watching the fireworks show, a smile playing at his lips. Michonne climbed over him, acutely aware of his eyes on her as she fiddled inside one of their backpacks, pulling out a spare beach towel. With a flourish, she covered them both.

"What are you doing, baby?" Rick's voice was low, even as his hands clutched at her. Michonne pushed them gently away, lowering herself over him.

"I love you," she repeated, this time without tears.

Rick grinned. "I know," he kissed her hand. "These four weeks ain't going to be nothing. We can do this."

Michonne nodded, dropping her lips to his bare stomach. He shuddered beneath her as she dragged herself downwards, the fireworks show revving up behind them.

"Tell me how," she instructed him, pulling the waistband of his shorts down. She lowered her mouth to him again.

Rick's head rolled back immediately, his hips arching into her, his hands in a death grip on her shoulder. Michonne watched him carefully from beneath the towel, wanting to do for him what he was always so eager to do for her.

The Fourth of July Fireworks show came to a grand crescendo, the grand finale exploding around them as Michonne found a rhythm that quickly unraveled her boyfriend. He collapsed beneath her, a boneless pile, a bewildered smile on his face.

"Damn, I love you, Chonne," he muttered sleepily as she righted both of their clothing before joining him again.

She laid her head on his shoulder, content to relax in his arms. "I know," she smiled, kissing him on the cheek.

-l-l-l-l-

"Drive safely," she stood in his driveway the next day, the Georgia sun beating down on her bare shoulders.

Rick smiled at her, reaching for her hand. "My dad and I are taking turns. I'll call you when we get there."

Michonne nodded, swallowing hard. "I'll see you soon," she told him.

"Soon," he repeated, kissing her chastely. His parents were on the front porch, chatting amicably with her parents.

"Get California ready for me," she teased, wiping at her face before she could begin crying again.

"Impossible," he grinned cheekily, "but I'll try, Chonne." He pulled her into a tight hug, tucking his face against hers. "I love you, beautiful," he whispered.

"I love you too," she whispered back.

She stood in his driveway, waving until his truck disappeared from sight.


	10. California Love

"To us!" Sasha raised her plastic cup high in the air. Behind her, the summer sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows on the young adults seated along the deck of the lake.

"To us," Zeke agreed enthusiastically. They mashed their red cups against one another's before taking a deep pull each. Michonne snuck in a conservative sip for the sake of comradery. Beside her, Mike shot her a knowing look before taking a gulp of his own. Michonne smiled at him, swearing him to secrecy with just a look.

"I can't believe this is it," Sasha set her cup down, dipping her feet into the cool waters below. "The last summer of our childhoods."

Mike laughed. "Ok, drama queen."

"I'm serious," Sasha swept her hand around. "When's the next time we will all be here, doing this?"

Michonne grinned. "Probably next summer."

Sasha snorted. "I'm going to be at West Point," she pointed out, "Not a lot of time for partying."

"I'll be at Georgia Tech," Zeke smiled. "Plenty of time for partying."

Sasha stuck her tongue out at him. Zeke pulled her in for a kiss. Groaning, Mike turned away from the canoodling couple and to his ex.

"How's your man?" he asked her quietly. Sasha and Zeke continued their alcohol-fueled, impromptu makeout session in the background.

"He's good," Michonne smiled, setting her cup down. "Tired, but happy. I'm excited to see him." She'd been counting down the days on her wall calendar. Now they were only hours away from a reunion and her stomach was in knots. "How's your man?" she chanced a glance at their friends before asking.

"Bummed that I'm leaving," Mike sighed. "We're hanging out tonight," he glanced anxiously at his watch.

"Do you need to go?" Michonne felt a stab of sympathy. If she'd only had one more night with Rick for the foreseeable future, she wouldn't waste it here.

Mike's eyes shifted over her head to Zeke and Sasha. "It's probably a good time to bounce," he observed, scrunching his face up.

"I'll drive you," Michonne stood up.

"Look at you, all grown," Mike grinned gratefully, joining her.

"I had to do something with my time," Michonne laughed.

In fact, her time apart from her boyfriend had been the busiest of the summer. Staying busy meant that she could stay out of her feelings. She'd taken extra shifts, read three books that hadn't initially been on her list, and gotten her license in half the time she'd figured it would take.

She still missed Rick though.

The feeling was mutual. Long distance phone calls weren't cheap. They'd only managed to get one in, just a few days after he left.

"I'll write you," Rick had promised her, whispering into the receiver. His teammates were the background, laughing loudly. "Love you, baby." An explosion of laughter had followed this statement, ringing in Michonne's ears after Rick hung up. Pen and paper afforded them more privacy.

And so, four letters had come for her in the mail, each a week apart. She'd packed them with the rest of her belongings, stacking them neatly in two suitcases leaning by her parent's front door. Each one had been a balm for her feelings, eased the space between them a bit. Even so, she still went to bed every night, thinking about him.

"Have you heard from your man?" Mike questioned.

"He writes," Michonne nodded.

Mike considered this. "Is it enough?"

Michonne wasn't sure how to answer this. Of course, she preferred his company, but those letters had tied her over through his short absence. "It did. You should get an email, if you're thinking about writing Terry. It's a lot quicker."

"I don't have a computer," Mike pointed out morosely.

"I'm sure somewhere at San Diego University, someone has a computer," Michonne reminded him with a nudge. Mike grinned.

"Maybe," he said. They continued down the pier to Michonne's borrowed Toyota, the sounds of their friends' laughter chasing them off.

Michonne suspected that Sasha and Zeke were relieved for the opportunity to be alone. She knew she'd talk to her friend one way or the other. They'd set up email accounts through their respective schools. Michonne looked forward to it, but there were other things on her mind.

"We said 'I love you'," she told Mike in the car. The sun set in her rearview mirror, throwing an orange glow across the world.

"Snap," Mike looked impressed. "He said it first?"

"On Fourth of July," she confirmed, blushing at just the thought. In a letter she'd received last week, Rick had been clear that he remembered the events of that night in stunning detail and was eager to repeat it.

"Smart guy," Mike complimented, nodding. "He knows a good thing when he has it." He looked nervously at his watch again, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor of her car. Michonne recognized the motion. Mike had tapped wildly before they'd taken their SATs, when they'd opened their college acceptance letters together, and before he'd broken up with her at prom.

Michonne rolled the vehicle to a halt in front of Mike's house. She stopped the engine, looking appreciatively at her friend. "If you feel that way about Terry, you should say something," she told him gently. "You don't want to leave without him knowing."

Mike paused in his fidgeting and smiled at her, amused. "You're the expert now?" he asked, teasingly.

"Nah," Michonne admitted, shaking her head. "Just reminding you that certain things are worth taking a chance on." She didn't want to consider what she would feel now if she hadn't given Rick a shot.

Mike nodded, contemplating this. He glanced at his watch one more time. "You might have a point, Chonne." He kissed her on the cheek, a familiar gesture from days long since passed. "Take care of yourself out there, girl," he told her. "Don't let that boy of yours get into too much trouble."

"Don't get into trouble with your boy," Michonne fired back with a grin. Mike laughed heartily.

"I'm pretty sure he'll forgive me," he said, grinning cheekily. "Especially since I'm going to tell him what I feel."

Laughing, Michonne watched him go. Rolling down the window, she shouted out to him, "Call me, ok?"

"I will," Mike spun on his heel, grinning widely at her.

Michonne smiled back.

-l-l-l-l-

The airplane was cold.

Michonne huddled beneath Rick's borrowed letterman jacket, breathing in the comforting scent. Her flight was packed, families and students all around her, bound for last minute vacations and their new young adult lives. Despite the crowd, Michonne was in a world of her own. Her Walkman thumped music into her ears as she stared out of the window, emotion roiling inside of her.

Saying goodbye to her parents had been much harder than she suspected. There had been tears on both sides. She was exhausted already, torn between her trepidation of being away from her family and her excitement at seeing Rick.

She succumbed to sleep, nodding off through the rest of the flight. Her nerves increased when the flight attendant woke her up, her heart pounding as they landed and she shuffled through the motions of disembarking. She navigated the hallways of LAX, feeling completely out of her depth.

It wasn't until she spotted a familiar curly brown head that she began to smile.

Rick was waiting for her, already leaning on her carefully labeled bags, a shit eating grin on his face. She ran to him, her carryon backpack bouncing behind her, her body hitting him full force in the chest.

"Missed me?" he asked on a laugh, crushing her to him.

In answer, she jerked his face down, kissing him. Rick reciprocated eagerly, cupping her chin, kissing her with a fervor he wouldn't have dared in public back home.

Michonne swayed on the spot, robbed of breath, clutching his arms. She took a moment to look at him. His chin was dusted in the beginnings of what was probably going to be an impressive beard, his hair longer and curlier than he'd left with. He'd definitely put on weight as well, if his arms were any indication. He looked less like the boy she remembered from high school and more like the man that he would soon become.

"I made it," Michonne smiled, hugging him again.

"Of course you did," Rick released her, grabbing her bags. He hurried them out of the baggage claim and into his truck, navigating down the streets of LA like he'd been driving there for months. He chatted nonstop, pointing out places he wanted to bring her, buildings he thought she'd find interesting, and filling her in on four weeks' worth of time that she'd missed.

"Here's my school," he slowed his truck, rolling the window down. Michonne leaned out, taking it all in. She'd seen pictures in her college brochures, but they didn't do it justice.

"Nice," she admitted, smirking at her boyfriend. "So when are you taking me to the better school?"

He smiled, "What do you mean?" he asked, innocently. "We're at the only school in LA that matters."

Despite his teasing, they eventually made it through traffic to UCLA. She got the key to her dorm and trekked up the stairs, Rick in tow. He dutifully helped her unpack, ignoring every dirty look or comment he received for his USC baseball t-shirt from her cohorts around the dorm building. Despite her elation at finally being here in California, the culmination of years of hard work, Michonne found herself counting down to something else. She desperately wanted to be alone with Rick. Instead, she shook hands, smiled, and fielded joke after joke about how she was already dating a "traitor". Rick took it all in good stride, a grin fixed on his face. Hours later, they finally finished. She sat on her bed, exhausted and happy, staring at the empty mattress across from her. The relaxed against one another, enjoying the blow of the air conditioner.

Rick's arm snuck around her waist. "Where's your roommate?" he asked.

Michonne smiled at him. "They said she hasn't shown up yet. I might get the room to myself."

"Oh yeah?" Rick asked, unable to hide his smile.

"Yup," Michonne lay back next to him. "It might just be me in here."

"I don't think it'll be just you in here," Rick suggested. He rolled over, tugging at her waist. Michonne craned her head towards him, heat already beginning to race through her veins. Rick wasted no time in kissing her. She opened her mouth beneath his, deepening their lip lock, her hands wandering. Rick caught them with his own.

"Did you bring that little black dress with you?" he questioned, nipping lightly at her earlobe.

Michonne managed a nod, unable to focus enough to speak.

"Good," Rick kissed her again, covering her body with his for the barest of moments. "Throw it on," he instructed, disengaging from her.

Michonne sat up, confused and disoriented. "Why?" she mustered the strength to ask. She wanted to tug him back on to her new bed and finish what they'd started months ago.

Rick just grinned cheekily at her. He stood up, helping her to her feet. "I'm taking you out," he said, matter-of-factly. Without another word, he left the room so she could change. Thunderstruck, Michonne sat alone on her bed for a moment, contemplating. Her eyes wandered to her suitcase, to the bag she'd hidden in the bottom. She retrieved it, rushing for the girl's bathroom down the hall. She kept the shower water cold, trying to soothe her frayed nerves. She took her time shaving, then smoothing on lotion before pulling on her new purchase. The white lace looked nice against her dark skin. She'd painstakingly selected it a week after Rick left. Shakily, she pulled her dress on over it, refreshing her makeup as she considered the reality of her situation. There were no more days to wait, no more possible interruptions. She and Rick were together in California, just like they'd planned.

Rick apparently spent his time away from her doing some planning of his own. He was wearing a suit when she emerged from her dorm bathroom, his curly hair still damp from his own shower, holding an overnight bag for her.

"Ready?" he asked, smiling.

"Ready," Michonne nervously took his hand, allowing herself to be guided from her new home to his truck. She was hyperaware of the backseat, her mind racing with the memories that they'd made there. Rick steered them along the roads, smiling at her every few moments. There was a faint flush to his cheeks.

The sun was beginning to set when they arrived at Venice Beach.

"I booked us a room for tonight," he announced, his voice cracking just a bit. "If that's ok." He looked at her nervously. Michonne was oddly comforted by it. "We can just go to dinner if you want."

"That's ok," she told him, kissing his cheek.

He grinned, blushing deeper. The blush continued as he checked into the hotel the same way she'd done at her dorm mere hours ago. Michonne followed him to the elevator, clinging to his hand. They made it to the room, the tension between them palpable. Rick's hands shook as he slid in the keycard and swung the door open.

"Do you want to get room service?" he asked her, shutting the door.

Michonne stared at him, her blood rushing through her veins. "I don't think I could eat right now," she said quietly.

Rick nodded, flushed. Gingerly, he stepped towards her, pulling her into his arms. Michonne looped her arms over his shoulders, kissing him softly. He tilted his head, cupping her chin, deepening their lip lock.

"I missed you," he whispered against her mouth. "I couldn't wait for you to come."

Michonne smiled against his lips. "I missed you too," she told him. She took a step back, catching his hands with her own. Slowly, she walked backwards towards the bed in the center of the room, bringing Rick with her. She toed her shoes off before sitting down, looking up at the boy she loved.

"I love you," he echoed her thoughts, leaning down to kiss her. Michonne pulled him down with her. Kissing turned into wandering hands. Methodically, Rick began to remove his suit, one piece at a time. Michonne turned around, allowing him to drag the zipper of her dress down. She shoved the thin straps from her shoulders, spinning in his arms.

Rick's eyes went wide, his face flushing. Michonne knew she wore a similar expression. He hadn't been lying when he said that a month of baseball was going to be good for him. Lean muscle had melted into definition that definitely didn't belong to a high school student.

"Damn," she breathed, shaking.

"No kidding," he hungrily drunk in the sight of her dark skin, contrasted with the white fabric of her specially chosen undergarments. He cursed lowly, reaching for her. Michonne met him halfway.

It was as though something inside them snapped. The awkwardness melted away, leaving only burning hunger behind. Rick's appreciative appraisal of her only increased her fervor. She gasped loudly as he touched her, running her hands over him in turn. Her new garments didn't last long. Discarded somewhere near the side of the bed, Rick replaced them with his mouth, laving at as much of her as he could. Heat flooded her again. She ground against him.

When he began kissing up her thighs, she moaned loudly. Her head thrown back against the bed, Michonne had a flashback of their summer, of trysts in dark corners, of rushed encounters. She never considered she'd be here now with Rick before their prom night. Now she couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

She tugged at his hair, calling his name as her body released under his affections. "Rick," she breathed, shaking slightly. He crawled back up towards her, settling his weight comfortably on top of her.

"Are you ready, baby?" Rick whispered, his voice desperate.

Michonne nodded, "Please," she gasped, unable to take anymore teasing.

When the moment came, Rick was shaking just as badly as she was. She reached up, stroking his hair. He looked down at her, smiling.

"I love you," she reminded him.

"I love you too," he pressed into her, leaning down to kiss her.

Michonne gasped against his mouth.

-l-l-l-l-

Room service did come hours later. Rick and Michonne indulged in steak and potatoes from bed, still wrapped around one another. Her body was sore in the best ways, buzzing from Rick's touch. The curtains leading to the balcony were open, affording them a view of the ocean. Michonne stared out at the horizon, her mind tumbling with possibilities.

Rick watched her, a faint smile playing on his face. "We can go to the beach tomorrow, if you want," he told her, kissing at her neck.

Michonne turned to look at him, her handsome ball player. She wondered what the next few years would bring. There would be opportunity to plan later. For now, she was enjoying this moment. "We have plenty of time," she assured him.

Rick grinned, pulling her back to him. Gently, he laid her down.

"Tons of time," he agreed, kissing her.


	11. Epilogue: Today Was a Good Day

If California knew how to party, then the city of Los Angeles made partying an art form.

And the LA Dodgers? They made it a profession.

At least, so it seemed to Michonne. She didn't begrudge them their high-spirited festivities. There was plenty to celebrate. Call her biased, but drafting Rick Grimes out of his junior year at USC was the best decision they'd ever made. The party that was thrown in his honor after he won Rookie of the Year was something she wasn't liable to ever forget.

This party though, put them all to shame.

LA had gone mad, and at the center of it all was the Dodgers, headed by their starting pitcher and MVP. Winning the World Series was the kind of thing that put people in a good mood. It was also the kind of thing that people popped champagne for. After what felt like a bottle all to herself, Michonne was a little woozy on her feet.

"Baby, you ok?" Rick's grip on her waist was tight, his breath scented with the very same champagne that had left her in this state.

"Better than all right," she assured him, smiling at her MVP. She stroked his beard playfully, tugging gently.

Rick grinned at her. "Did you get enough to drink?" he teased.

Michonne spun in his arms, leaning in to whisper directly in his ear. Tupac was playing loudly over the speakers as the DJ began a throwback set dedicated entirely to West Coast Rap. Michonne rolled her hips to the music, making no effort to not grind on her man. "I had plenty," she teased. "I want something else now."

"What's that?" his facial hair tickled her cheeks as his grip on her tightened. He pulled her flush against him, moving with her to the sounds of Dr. Dre.

Michonne giggled, fueled by alcohol and frivolity. "It can wait," she told him, attempting to step backwards. Rick was having none of it.

"I thought we didn't keep secrets," he kissed her neck, darting his tongue out for just a moment, uncaring about the crowds. People were everywhere, each locked in their own debauchery.

"I don't want to take you away from your celebration," Michonne mock-pouted.

"We're celebrating you too, Chonne," he reminded her, grinding to the rhythm. Michonne rolled her hips backwards into him, delighting in the low beat of the music. She loved dancing with Rick, eagerly seizing every opportunity. He began to mumble the lyrics in her ear, a habit he'd picked up since their first dance at prom, one that he kept around mainly for her amusement.

"I thought that was next weekend." Laughing, Michonne brought them back to the point. The plane tickets were on their nightstand, a long overdue vacation right around the corner, just for the two of them. If she could leave right now, she would. There were good thing ahead, parades and interviews, and obligations. Still, she longed for the quiet of just being with Rick, of the lake back home, of the comforts of their parents houses. There was a party being planned there too, solely in their honor.

"We can start early," Rick assured her. His hands groped down her body, emboldened by the dark lights of the club and their close quarters. He gave her a firm squeeze that drew a gasp from her immediately. She gave into him in an instance, fire racing through her.

"Grab a bottle of that champagne," she instructed, nipping at his ear for good measure.

"Yes ma'am," his accent always got stronger when he was drunk, not that he had a lot of opportunity to be during the season. 162 games meant plenty of time on the road, in the gym, and in the stadium. While Michonne came to every game that she was able to, it wasn't easy to balance law school and being Rick's right hand woman. Every scrap of their diminutive spare time, they spent together. Rick reached for a bottle on ice, catching it by the neck before seizing her hand. He began to steer them towards the door, holding Michonne tightly at his side.

"41! Where you going?" his catcher called to him by his number, yelling boisterously over the music. Rick had picked 41 upon being drafted, announcing that it was the closest he could come to Jackie Robinson after the league retired his number. Michonne knew that he'd picked it for her too, a reminder of that first year as a couple.

Every year since just seemed to get better and better. Through school rivalries, midterms, the stress of law school applications and entering the draft, through adjusting to life on the opposite side of the country from their families, they'd been together.

"Celebrating with my lady, Jones" Rick answered his teammate cheekily, not bothering to disguise his intention whatsoever. Michonne shook her head, giggling at his antics.

His catcher laughed, pulling his own woman to his side. "Be safe out there," he instructed before rejoining the party.

Their driver was waiting for them already, the keys in the ignition. "Leaving the party early?" he asked them.

"Taking the celebration home," Rick beamed at Michonne. "I ain't the only one who made a milestone. Chonne, passed the California bar, first try." He sounded so pleased that Michonne flushed.

The driver nodded appreciatively. "I knew you would, Mrs. Grimes," he told her. With a grin, he opened the door for them.

Rick helped her into the car, holding her hand as she slid across the leather seats, his fingers tracing her new rings almost out of habit. Michonne pulled him into her, not bothering to adjust her dress. It was riding high on her legs, exposing her thighs. He wasted no time in covering the skin with his calloused palms, massaging them gently.

The driver didn't bother to roll down the partition, perhaps sensing the general mood of the night, or perhaps because he knew the way to their house by now. Either way, it suited their purpose perfectly. Rick's mouth was on her, kissing her fervently. The hands that managed to pitch the last strike in the World Series now focused their attentions on her, massaging at her until her head rolled back into the seat.

"I can't wait to get home," she told him breathily, guiding his hands to her waist. Rick groaned against her as she palmed him.

"You got plans for me?" he baited her, sucking at her neck.

"I always have plans for you, MVP," she toyed with the zipper of his pants. She pushed him back against the seats as the car came to a halt in LA traffic, determined to make the most of their time.

"Shit, Chonne," he slurred his words, less from the alcohol than from his wife's affections. Michonne leaned over him, smiling at the look on her husband's face as she unbuttoned his pants and lowered her mouth to him. She concentrated on him the way he played the sport he so loved: with single minded purposefulness.

For months, they'd missed this time together. She was studying, he was grinding on the road, the way they planned. Their wedding had been small, intimate, their honeymoon prearranged for some distance date. Michonne never minded, because Rick was always at her side, even when work necessitated distance between them. Now, after years of work, they had made it.

"Baby," he panted, his hand coming down to grip her hair, the long tendrils of her dreads caught in his fist. Michonne moved with more fervor, relishing every moan she coaxed from him. His hips jerked of their own volition, even as she struggled to remain quiet.

"Shhhh…" she cautioned, disengaging for the briefest of moments. Above her, Rick was flushed, his chest heaving, his eyes on her with a look that promised that their celebration was going to be an all-nighter. In seconds, he reversed their position, silencing her giggles with a kiss and his hands began some exploring of their own.

By the time they got to the house, he had her half-undressed, her dress pulled hastily down in a poor disguise of what they'd been doing. Rick gave the driver the night off, sending him back to the party to enjoy himself before locking the front door. They didn't make it upstairs, but collapsed on their living room couch. Michonne tugged at the buttons of his jersey, yanking until she could work it open enough for her to run her hands over the planes of his chest. Though his face had retained its boyishness, any trace of that was gone from his body. Tan and corded with lean muscles, her husband was every inch the man she knew he would be when they'd started dating.

"Like what you see?" he teased. Drunk Rick was a cocky Rick, not that Michonne minded. She worried her lower lip between her teeth, drinking in the sight of him.

"I do," She leaned back against the cushions of the couch, allowing her legs to fall open. Rick's eyes scorched into her, a flush creeping up his bare chest. On a sound almost like a growl, Rick impatiently shoved the skirt of her dress up, pulling her legs over his shoulders.

"Me too," he assured her, groaning as he got into position.

Michonne let out a shuddering moan when her pushed inside of her.

"My beautiful wife," he showered her with compliments as he rotated his hips, his habit whenever they'd been apart for any amount of time. "My sexy, intelligent, lawyer wife." Each statement was accompanied with a wet kiss to a different part of her. Michonne clung to him, hanging on by a thread.

"I love you," she panted. "I love you, I love you," her body gave into the pleasure all at once, pulling her husband with her. He held her for a moment, willing the world to stop spinning, pressing kisses to her temple.

"I love you too," he promised, stroking her. The sounds of the block parties being thrown through the city reached them. Rick grinned, listening to them. Michonne watched him, a faint smile on her face. He disengaged from her with a kiss, staggering up and into the kitchen. She watched him return, champagne in tow. He handed her a glass, saluting her with his own.

She clinked hers against his, taking a deep pull. "What are we going to do now?" Michonne asked him as he settled beside her again. She stroked his back lazily. "I'm a lawyer, you're a world champion." It was surreal. She knew they'd get here, but not so fast.

Rick shrugged, adjusting his arms around her. "Work on your private practice. Maybe have a few kids. I can be a stay-at-home dad, you can be my sugar mama," he laughed, looking enthused by the thought.

Michonne slapped at him playfully, giggling right along with him. Rick caught her hands, rolling her beneath him again. Carefully, he moved their glasses to the side, his mind no longer on drinking. When he began to move down her body, trailing kisses as he went, Michonne lost her train of thought.

"Maybe," she gasped. "We don't need a plan just yet."

"What are you talking about?" Rick parted her thighs almost reverently, eyeing her appreciatively. "I got plenty of plans for tonight."

Her giggles turned to moans in seconds.

As the city partied around them, Rick and Michonne celebrated.


End file.
